You are viewing a story from

A Memory of Love by K Stahl

Format: Novel
Chapters: 19
Word Count: 68,700

Rating: 15+
Warnings: No Warnings

Genres: Drama, Romance, Action/Adventure
Characters: Jacob, Queenie
Pairings: Other Pairing

First Published: 05/29/2017
Last Chapter: 06/14/2017
Last Updated: 02/13/2018


The movie “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” ends with Jacob opening his pastry shop, having lost his memory of Queenie and with Queenie having only her memories but determined to not acquiesce in only having memories. This is the story of her refusal to accept what others have determined for her and Jacob.

Chapter 1: Chapter I - New Memories of Love
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter I
New Memories of Love

Jacob Kowalski looked out at the rain, the rain that would remove his memory of her; he turned to look back at his new friends who stood sheltered from the rain in the entrance way to the subway. But he saw only Queenie, his Queenie.

He thought to himself, “This will be harder for you, Queenie. At least, in a strange way, I hope it will be, although I wish it could be otherwise.” In her pain, Queenie saw Jacob pause in his thoughts. “I will have no memory, no pain. You will have only memory, only pain.” Another pause, then with a burst of invention, a burst of joy, Jacob thought, “Queenie! Take my memory. Take my memory of these last few days—my confusion at my first run in with Newt—my amazement—my joy at witnessing your magical dinner preparations—my joy at discovering the taste of that wonderful strudel you made. Take it all. Take my memories now before I walk into the rain; find me after a time and we can start again without any others knowing about us. Don’t wait too long—maybe a month or so.”

Queenie felt his excitement and saw his confidence in her. She could see the warmth of his smile that the others could not see and she smiled inwardly to herself. And so she did—and she relived the moment of his excitement and wonder as she made the strudel on their first meeting. She kissed him softly and ever so softly whispered, “done.” So, now he would know—at least for a moment. And then in those last moments she saw his courage, his trust, his serenity of mind, as he walked into the rain. And she learned what he meant when he thought to her that it would be she who suffered.

Back in the apartment she shared with her sister, Tina, she moved off to be alone with her thoughts. She could feel the sadness and despair over the injustice in the minds of Tina and Newt as they discussed the past events, as they tried to comfort each other—tried to assure each other that although it would take time, life would soon enough return to normal.

These thoughts—that things will return to normal—were too painful for Queenie to bear. “Then do something to help Jacob’s life return to normal!” she lashed out.

The two who were intent on comforting each other were shocked into silence. Tina came to her sister. “Was it so bad for you?” she asked softly.

“You cannot know—the pain of Legilimency. I had all his thoughts and as he walked into the rain, his thoughts—his affection—his desire—became slowly clouded in a mist. And when the mist lifted I was not there, not anywhere in his mind. I felt as empty of life as his thoughts were of me.”

Tina could say nothing. It was Newt who broke the silence. “The Occamy eggshells are silver. Those that I have should be adequate to provide Jacob with the collateral that he will need for his loan.”

“Thank you, Newt,” said Queenie, much relieved. She was about to say more but remembered Jacob’s thoughts—“we can start again without any others knowing about us.” With a touch of bitterness she said only, “Although it does not eliminate the memory of my feelings of emptiness, knowing that after being tossed away like so much garbage, Jacob will be able to hit the ground running and build a life for himself. That at least will be of some comfort.”

Tina looked at the sister she knew only too well. “You will not do anything foolish, will you?”

“Me do something foolish,” replied Queenie feigning a light heartedness she did not feel. “I am not the one who attacks no-majs. No, Tina nothing foolish. My life too will eventually return to normal.

“But I would like to taste his pastries. After all, I never had the chance while we were chasing Newt’s magical creatures. I think that in a month or so, when everything has settled down and Jacob has his pastry shop, it will be safe to sample one—or maybe even more than one.”

Tina smiled but continued to mildly caution her sister. “All right, but try to not be too obvious when you visit his shop.”

“Do you mean that I should not bring Jacob’s pastries to the other clerks at the Wand Permit Office more than twice a week?”

Queenie’s light hearted and frivolous response put her sister at ease and she replied in same lighthearted manner. “Just be certain to make sure that Panty gets a smidge more than the others.”

“Panty?” queried Newt.

“Ruggero Pantano is the—is—Queenie, just what is he?” asked Tina.

“He’s some kind of coordinator. I know he works with the wand examiners in some capacity. I don’t know what department he works for. He seems to float among all the departments. He may work directly for the president. He manages to show up in the Wand Permit Office once or twice a week, although he usually confines himself to the wand examiners’ office. You know, it might be fun to bring pastries when he is not there—just to see how he will react,” said Queenie.

“Have you ever accessed his mind?” asked Newt.

“A few times when I first came to work at the office,” said Queenie. “He’s not a nice person. I find it distressing to be in the mind of a Nasty and I avoid doing it whenever I can.”

“Are there many like Panty?” asked Newt.

“Too many,” said Queenie. Neither Newt nor Tina noticed the slight darkening of her manner. “Now, you two make your plans while I busy myself making a strudel and reliving some pleasant memories.”

“What plans?” asked Tina.

“Do I have to spell it out? You like each other and Newt will be leaving for England soon. Decide if you are to go with him or if you will visit later and if later, when.”

Queenie Goldstein stood across the street from Jacob Kowalski’s bakery and watched as the last customer exited a few minutes before closing time, before she entered. Jacob had his back to her but turned to see her when the sound of the bell over the door alerted him.

Jacob stood silent, just looking at Queenie until she spoke. “I know it’s late, but could I trouble you for two pastries?”

Jacob said nothing. Queenie said his name softly, “Jacob.”

“Yes, always,” answered Jacob. He moved to present her a tray of those he had left. “I don’t have much of a variety left. Sample these and then choose the ones you wish. Would you like some coffee?—No, I think that you would like cocoa. Yes, I think that cocoa would be more to your liking.”

“I would prefer cocoa. How did you know?” she asked playfully.

“Just a thought,” said Jacob.

And so it began. The next morning when Queenie came early to Jacob’s shop to get a dozen pastries for her co-workers, she noticed the strudel she had made for him on that very first meeting. She bought that too.

At the office she laid out the pastries on a table and cut the large strudel into pieces. She took for herself the first piece of the strudel. It was good but not quite right. Oh well, he had only seen her make it once, she thought to herself. But she knew that with this recipe she would reveal herself to him—reveal herself as a witch. Not yet, but soon. Tonight she would use Legilimency to look into his mind to know how much he remembered, because he did remember something—he just didn’t understand that the fantasies he imagined were real. But she would wait to reveal herself. She would allow herself to know him and him her, free from the anxiety that she was certain would emerge with his introduction to the world of magic.

It has been three weeks, three wonderful weeks. A few mornings a week Queenie would pick up the order for the office and take the time to drink the cocoa that Jacob had prepared for her. Every evening after leaving the office she would stop by the bakery for cocoa and a walk in the park before returning so he could prepare for the next morning. She was amazed at how long and hard he worked—but it was his joy.

Sipping her cocoa from a Dixie Cup, she watched him from inside and out. She enjoyed the busyness of his mind, but only remained at the shop for a few minutes during this busiest time of the day for him. She remained in his mind until she entered the magical domain of the Wand Permit Office.

Soon she thought, soon she would make that strudel for him and reveal that she was a witch.

Her quiet reverie was abruptly interrupted when she caught sight of Ruggero Pantano approaching. He walked from one desk to another, with his hands in his pockets, spending a moment in conversation; however, he was definitely zigzagging his way to her. She had wondered how long it would take for him to seek out one of Jacob’s pastries.

“Good morning Mr. Pantano. Have you come for a pastry?”

“Not really, Queenie. I wanted to ask if you had seen Robert Holden. I would like to speak to him about something.”

“Well, if its a new wand that you want, you can’t do better than Bob Holden,” she said. “I haven’t seen him this morning, but he should be in. He’s usually in his shop before everyone else gets here. I will let him know that you are looking for him if I see him.”

“No, it is something else. I am sure to see him sometime later this afternoon.”

Queenie did not have to read Panty’s mind to know he was lying and when she did she saw that he did want a wand, an untraceable wand. “As you wish, but take a pastry while you are here.”

Taking a bite of a pastry, Panty commented, “This is really quite good; where did you get it?”

It was at this point that she felt the mild euphoria that accompanies the imperio curse only moments after she saw the thought; it was almost indistinguishable from the feeling of a strong calming draft. She knew, but even if she was not in his mind, she would have known. Her change in mood from the joy she still felt after leaving Jacob’s mind to the sourness at seeing Panty approach to the euphoria of the imperio curse would have alerted her. She easily resisted his weak assault. He thought himself clever by employing such a mild coercion that he thought undetectable. She was relieved when she realized that he had no knowledge of Jacob. But he had no purpose either. He had used the imperious curse simply because he was curious about her bringing the pastries now when she had not done so before.

With this question Queenie knew that Panty was looking into her activities. She knew, but there was also something in his voice, in the way he asked. She would have to be more careful when she met with Jacob. “It’s a new shop near were Tina and I live.” There was no advantage in lying; there was danger in a lie being discovered.

She understood his method. He would ask questions and use the imperious curse to push her to answer what she did not want to answer. Incensed, she was determined to eliminate this curiosity on his part. Carefully, she isolated his thoughts about her and obliviated his curiosity about her bring the pastries. She smiled at him when she felt the mild euphoria diminish before he left to visit someone else, brushing aside and sneering at the elf who was bring her the day’s registration forms.

Queenie pondered what she had learned about Panty—that he wanted an unregistered wand—as she watched the elf bring her a stack of wand registration renewal forms from which she would select the most interesting for her day’s work. “Good morning, Mr. Zelos. Help yourself to a pastry.”

“Zelos cannot,” replied Zelos, as he pushed aside the curtain that covered the trays loaded with the registration renewal forms Queenie would need.

“I saw you eyeing them,” Queenie chastised playfully.

Zelos struggled, “Zelos n…”

“Must I order you to take a pastry?” asked Queenie again with a broad grin.

“It—helps,” replied Zelos.

“Mr. Zelos, I order you to take a pastry for your own dining pleasure. And, if you wish another pastry, come to my desk when I have pastries and I will again order you to take one.”

“Ahh, much better Mistress Queenie Goldstein,” said Zelos with a slight giggle.

Before Zelos left to deliver the rest of the registration renewal forms to the other clerks, Queenie had an idea. “Mr. Zelos, when you have the opportunity, tell Mr. Robert Holden that I would like to see him.”

“Zelos does,” he said as he placed his pastry in the empty tray that had held Queens forms, closed the curtains, and pushed his cart off to the next desk.

When Bob Holden had left Queenie, both were in agreement to keep this insight into the character of Panty to themselves. Neither wanted an investigation that would pry into their personal lives. Queenie knew her reasons. She wondered at Bob’s eagerness to avoid an investigation. His thoughts revealed nothing, only an eagerness to return to work. At least now he was alerted to the possibility that Panty might attempt to use the imperious curse to persuade him to do something he might not want to do. She wondered at the nervousness she could feel in his mind. It was he who suggested keeping Panty’s aggressive actions to themselves.

She did not tell him that Panty wanted an unregistered wand, that would introduce the question of how she knew, but she did relay to him everything they each said. Very casually she had added that she had once made a rudimentary wand when she was in school and asked if he would show her something about wand making.

Entering Jacob’s pastry shop, Queenie was determined to arrange for her to be alone with Jacob for a few hours—a few private hours—so she could show him. It was not to happen as she had envisioned. Her carefully laid plans were thrown into disarray with Jacob’s introduction of Ciro Alaimo.

“Queenie, come over, I want you to meet Ciro Alaimo,” said Jacob as he saw Queenie move aside when she entered so that Jacob could serve the last of his customers.

“Ciro, this is Queenie Goldstein. Queenie, Ciro and I went through the war together. He just got a job as a tailor at Macy’s and wanted to tell me that he and his wife Angela would like to have me to dinner this Sunday.”

Ciro knew from the excitement in Jacob’s voice that Queenie was more than a customer. “Bring Miss Goldstein along. I am sure that Angela would very much like to meet your lady friend.”

Queenie smiled as Jacob blushed slightly. She saw in Jacob's mind his thought: My lady friend—my Queenie—my beloved intended. There was no doubt that he wanted to go and that he wanted her to accompany him. Sliding into Ciro’s mind she saw that they were more than just good friends who were in the army together. Each had saved the life of the other more than once. But now each was pursuing the building of his own life. Not intent on reliving past adventures they had grown somewhat apart. Pleased with her discovery, she let herself drift further into Ciro’s mind where she discovered a thought that troubled him greatly and his reluctance to inform Jacob whom he had not seen for over a year. He knew that Jacob could not help him and he did not want their first meeting to be spoiled by his troubles.

“We would love to have dinner with you and your Angela,” answered Jacob. Realizing that he had accepted for Queenie he turned to her, “Queenie, is this Sunday good for you?”

“Sunday is fine,” said Queenie. To emphasize her eagerness she added, “And honey, if we should stay late, I will help you prepare for Monday morning.” She could feel his eagerness and the thought of her as his beloved and she too began to feel that beloved was the right word for them.

The dinner had gone very well. Queenie had helped Angela clear the table and Jacob stayed out of the way as Ciro put little Albert to bed. Jacob and Ciro were already engaged in discussing their plans for the future when Queenie and Angela returned to them. Ciro was saying that he would use the contacts he made with his Macy’s customers to begin his own tailoring business, and how he would need a good central location to serve his clientele. He already had a number of customers requesting his exclusive work. For now he would travel to those customer’s homes outside of his regular work hours.

And so the discussion went until Queenie was able to ask if all his family were here. This was when Ciro told them that most were but that they were unable to get Angela’s uncle and his family out of Italy.

“They had not planned to leave,” said Ciro. “Enrico is a watch maker and has a good business; however, when Mussolini made himself dictator they saw that with every new restriction, every new regulation, with the special attention that Mr. Boveri, the district fascist party leader, paid to him and his business, that things would only get worse. However, although people were able to emigrate, when Enrico tried to get the necessary papers, he could not. He learned why from the clerk who was processing their request. He came to Enrico’s shop that evening and told him that he had been ordered by Mr. Boveri to refuse emigration requests from certain people. Enrico was among them. He had taken a fancy to Mia, their youngest daughter. The clerk also had a young daughter and was determined to keep her out of notice.”

“She is only 13,” said Angela, very distressed.

Queenie did not need to be a Legilimens to see the distress both felt.

“We really don’t know what to do,” said Ciro. “If it was a matter of money, we could handle that. But he doesn’t want money. He has made himself rich by extorting bribes. No; he wants five nights with Mia to let them go. They do not think he will wait very long to get what he wants, leaving Enrico to simply go about his business.”

But Queenie was a Legilimens, and she knew how helpless Ciro and Angela were—how hopeless. She saw how much Jacob wanted to help, but the only thing he could think of was to offer money and this made him feel even worse because he knew money would not help.

“Ciro, Angela, will you let me try to help?” asked Queenie during a pause when no one seemed to know what to say. “I know someone in England. He has some position with the ministry there. He may know someone who can help. I don’t want to offer a false hope, but if you will tell me everything you know about Enrico, his family, where he lives, and this Mr. Boveri, I will contact my friend and see if he can help. And, if I can, you should provide a letter of introduction to Enrico. But don’t write to him about this. There is no reason to get his hopes up and we should not endanger him by putting in writing our intentions.”

Chapter 2: Chapter II - New Memories of Magic
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter II
New Memories of Magic

Jacob and Queenie returned to his bakery by subway just as they had traveled to Ciro’s. As they were exiting to the street Queenie held back a few steps. Jacob turned to look at her and she saw the wisp of a last memory still shrouded in mist, she said, “Yes Jacob—my beloved intended, we have much to say to each other. Let’s go now, prepare for Monday, and I will show you what I am.”

“What you are?”

Queenie only smiled as she nodded almost imperceptibly.

Together in the back room among tables and trays and mixers, Jacob with a dumbfound expression on his face and a 50 pound sack of flour on his shoulder heard Queenie say that she was a witch. He just stood there, as if he were nailed to the floor and the sack of flour was just his coat thrown over his shoulder.

“You had to know,” she said. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I tried to think of a way to tell you about us.”


“Yes, us. I could not think of a way to tell you. I feared what you might think; I feared that you would be upset, but I cannot wait any longer. If we are to help Ciro, you must know what I can do. So I screwed up my courage and just told you.”

Jacob was just beginning to understand what Queenie had said so softly. “I am not upset, Queenie. Just a bit surprised. Well, maybe more than a bit.”

He was about to put down the sack of flour when Queenie said, “No, wait. Let me show you.” She pulled her wand which was concealed in a pocket among the folds of her skirt. She lifted the 50 pound sack from his shoulder and placed it on the work table.

Queenie was in his mind and knew that he was not afraid. But there was something more. Something she had never before seen in the mind of anyone. It wasn’t that Jacob was learning something new; she had seen the excitement of learning something new many times; he was restructuring his thoughts with regard to what was possible, what existed.

“So, what we consider magic is actually real?” he asked.

Queenie nodded to affirm that he was correct.

“Well, now you must tell me what magic is real and what is not,” said Jacob. “But first, it’s time to put you to work. You have seen me work in preparation for the next day. Can you use magic to help things move a little more quickly? Then we will have more time to talk.”

Queenie joyfully agreed, thinking that this had gone much better than she had feared. Yes, it was she who was afraid.

Everything went much faster with Queenie doing all the preparing of the fruit and cheese fillings, and once she saw how Jacob prepared the dough and shaped various pastries and breads, she was able to speed that along also. Of course the cooking could not be quickened, but she was able to duplicate the wood for the stove and oven fires, and float it in so that they did not have to move it from the outside woodshed.

When they sat down to cocoa, Jacob said, “Don’t try to tell me everything. Let’s just talk about what you had in mind to help Ciro. Do you really know someone in the British Ministry? Is he some sort of a magical special agent?”

“Magical, yes but not a special agent,” said Queenie. “He works with animals that inhabit the magical world. I did not intend for him to help us. I only mentioned him to divert any suspicion from me and what I will do.

“The first thing you must know is that we in the magical world have our own government. Here in America that government is the Magical Congress of the United States of America, commonly referred to as MACUSA. In England, it is called the Ministry of Magic. Each is independent of the other just as the American government is independent of the British government. Here in America, we are forbidden to reveal ourselves to those who are not magical. We call them, you, no-majs, that is no magic. In England, you would be called a muggle. The British wizarding community considers it all right for wizards to reveal themselves to muggles in some cases although they do not encourage it.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Do you mean that you could get in trouble for telling me this?”

“Yes, but the danger is not to me,” said Queenie. “I might be fined or demoted in my position in the Wand Permit Office.”

“You do not work in accounts receivable at Woolworths?” asked Jacob.

“No, but that’s not important,” said Queenie. “Woolworths is where the MACUSA keeps its headquarters. If anyone from our world were to bring the fact that you know about us to the MACUSA, they would send someone to remove those memories—to remove the knowledge that you have of us.”

“I would not remember you?”

Queenie did not have to use Legilimency; she could see the distress on Jacob’s face. “No,” she said, “but it will not happen. I have not told anyone about you, not even my sister.”

“You have a sister?—No, no, no, this is all too much,” said Jacob. “We can talk about government restrictions later; let’s get back to what you have in mind to help Ciro. Then you can tell me about the magic you will use.”

“As you wish, beloved,” replied Queenie, very relieved at how comfortable Jacob was with this new insight into her. “Given what Ciro told us about Enrico’s family and the fact that Enrico spoke some English, I will go to his house, hand him the letter of introduction, and learn where I can locate this Boveri; find him, and cause him to forget about Mia.

“I need to work out the details of course, but that’s it in a nutshell.”

“OK, how will you get there?” asked Jacob.

“I thought that I would apparate,” said Queenie. “I would have to do it in separate jumps because I can’t apparate all the way to Italy in one jump.”

She saw in Jacob’s mind that he didn’t have any idea about what she was saying. “Let me show you.” She then apparated across the room and walked back.

“Hmm, I see,” said Jacob. “You could apparate up to Newfoundland, across to Greenland, then Iceland and England. Have you ever thought of apparating to about 1000 feet above the ocean and while you are falling, apparate to 1000 feet above the ocean farther on. Then you could take a great circle route to Italy and not have to worry about some eskimo in Greenland seeing you.”

Queenie was stunned at his inventiveness and amused by his humor. She had never considered this method for apparating long distances. This was entirely new to her.

“Or, is apparating great distances too exhausting?” asked Jacob, noticing her thoughtful silence.

“No, not exhausting,” said Queenie. “It’s just that I had never thought of that.”

“Is apparating something I could learn?”

With sad eyes, Queenie said no. “You have to be born a witch or wizard to be able to do magic, although there are magical instruments such as a portkey that you could activate. Of course it is forbidden for you to do so. The making of such devices is severely restricted.”

“Of course, but you do not always abide by such restrictions.”

“Not always. But I can take you,” said Queenie excitedly, wanting to cheer up Jacob, even as she realized he needed no cheering up. “Let me show you.” She took his hand and apparated across the room where she kissed him lightly. “This is going to be wonderful. We can help Enrico and have fun doing it.”

Jacob noticing the squeezing effect of apparating, embraced Queenie and said, “Do it again.” When she had, he said, “Now that’s much better. Just don’t let go when we are 1000 feet above the ocean.”

She too delighted in apparating while embraced and although she had not thought of taking Jacob until this moment, she now delighted in the thought also. She whispered in his ear, “I will never let go.”

Then on a whim, she disillusioned herself while still in his arms.

“Ah, that’s good too,” he said while he kissed her and explored her body with his hands to further assure himself that she had not let go.

“Well that’s one down,” he said. “How were you going to disguise us? And I’m quite pleased that you will never let go. Or, were you just going to make us invisible?”

Queen smiled and thought to herself: We will never let go.

“I can always disillusion us, but why would we need to disguise ourselves? We will be there and gone. It won’t matter if we are seen. No one will recognize us.”

Then in his mind she saw. “Oh, Enrico will see us and wonder how we of such modest means could travel so far so quickly. Well, I guess we could use polyjuice potion. Then we could make ourselves look exactly like some other persons.”

“OK, that’s good,” he said eagerly integrating this new knowledge into his old and new understanding of the world. “If we can look like anyone, we should look unthreatening—perhaps old and unattractive, or perhaps only you might look old and unattractive and I could go as your grandson.”

Queenie could not help but laugh at his playfulness and amaze at the ease with which he embraced this new world of magic. She thought to herself: I will have to check my library for someone appropriate.

“You said that you could make this official forget about Mia. How will you do that?”

“Remember that I said that you would have your memory of magic and of me erased if the MACUSA were to learn about you and me. I will do that to him. Only I will not be as crude as the Obliviators. I will enter his mind, locate the thoughts of Mia and her father and remove them. Then Enrico can apply for emigration in the normal way.”

“That’s very good, very elegant,” said Jacob. “We should begin a trial run as soon as possible to make sure that everything will go smoothly—that I know what to expect. First you need to make certain that you can apparate above water and apparate again.

“Wait a minute! You can be in someone’s mind and know his thoughts?”

Queenie nodded, knowing what was coming.

“Have you been doing that with me?”

Queenie nodded again.

“Are you in my mind now?”

Queenie nodded again, fearful of what he might think and relieved by what she saw.

“Well, I always thought it best to be honest in all my dealings with people, but I never imagined that I might gain my very own guardian to keep me honest.” Jacob holding Queenie close and kissing her, said, “You know that this means there will be no birthday surprises for you.”

“I’m afraid you will have to be your own guardian,” said Queenie. “I can’t be in your mind all the time. I must have time for my own thoughts.” But she had picked up on another thought: It would be difficult for her. There would be times when he was upset with her, perhaps thinking wrong or even mean thoughts; she would have to be understanding because he would not be able to shield her from those thoughts.

“OK, but ‘knock’ first when you are entering so I will know.” Then while she was pondering how she could possibly ‘knock’ when she had always worked to conceal her Legilimency, he moved on without a pause, saying, “Lake George should do, but don’t apparate too high above the water. Try to apparate as close to the water as possible without falling in. That way you will gain a good idea how far you will fall before apparating again. Now tell me more about this polyjuice potion.”

Queenie thought to herself that this might be a good time to show Jacob her apartment, now that he knew and Tina was visiting Newt in England. “Wait a moment; I’ll check. Then I will pop us over to my apartment.”

Jacob did not speak as he looked around Queenie’s apartment. It wasn’t that it was strange. It was quite ordinary although more decorated and cluttered than his own. It was somehow familiar.

“Yes, beloved; you have been here before.”

“It was here that we first met?” asked Jacob.

“Yes, it was here that I first saw that you were so much more than you appeared,” she said.

“Will you tell me?” he asked.

She nodded, and she did, beginning with what she saw in his mind about his experiences before she first saw him; ending with his thoughts and hers as he walked into the rain and his and her determination to begin again.

“Don’t be sad. Although I cannot put thoughts in your mind and restore your memory, at least now you know everything. Our new beginning may not have been so exciting, but it was better for that. It was just for us.”

“You said that you would be demoted or fined if the MACUSA became aware of us, but they were ready to execute Tina and Newt just because they allowed me to become aware of your magical world. They may have used the accidental escape of some of Newt’s creatures as an excuse, but what moral person in his right mind would even consider executing someone for an accident. It is not I who is in danger. I will only not remember. The true danger is to you. These are not nice people.”

For the first time she saw anger in Jacob’s mind—and—the hint of memories of a brutal horror from his time in France—his time at war. Then she saw him recover with a single thought: We know; they do not; we have the advantage. The anger was gone. The hatred for people who could do such things remained, but it was like a footnote to their character.

“So, what else do you have to show me?” he asked calmly, so calmly that had she not been a Legilimens she would have had no idea of the emotion, the intense emotion, that he held in check.

“What you see is nothing but an apartment,” she said, allowing him to change the subject as she pointed her wand to the china closet.

Jacob saw the heavy cabinet swing forward as if it was a door. Behind this china closet door he saw, not a wall, but a room as large as the dining room in which they stood—a room that seemed to extend into the apartment next door.

On a shelf behind a sliding glass cabinet door, he saw what could only be described as a miniature library with several rows of book shelves each filled with tiny books. He saw that each stack of miniature shelves was on a track; Queenie pulled one stack forward and picked out one of the tiny books.

When she had put the book on the reading stand at the end of the room, she enlarged it to its proper size.

“This book contains the instructions to make the polyjuice potion that we will use,” she said, taking him by the hand to another shelf containing bottles that seemed to be grouped by shape and color. “And these bottles contain the polyjuice base that we will use.”

Below the bottles he saw several long wooden boxes. She showed him that they contained pictures of people clipped to an envelop. The collection of pictures was in sequence by age with one collection for males and one for females.

“This envelop only has a description, no picture,” said Jacob as he flipped through the collection.

“That would have been gathered by my father,” she said. “He did not have a camera for the earlier ones.”

“I see, you have been at this for quite some time.” He smiled, then pointing to what could only be described as the clothing section of a department store only in miniature, he asked, “And these?”

“A wardrobe from which to choose clothing appropriate to the person being impersonated,” she said. “I have tried them all. I can impersonate a man or a woman.”

“Since we are here now,” he said, “we should pick the persons we will become for our Italian escapade.”

As they were picking among all the possible people to impersonate, Queenie explained that the polyjuice potion need a piece to the person into which they would change and that a sip of the potion only lasted for an hour so they would have to carry a sufficient supply for their trip. She also mentioned that as a girl she had worked secretly as a manicurist in a no-maj beauty parlor, enabling her to build a substantial supply of nail clippings as well as provide her with some of her own spending money.

“It takes a month to make the base stock, so I will brew up a new batch about three times a year.”

“Is that what’s in this very large container?” asked Jacob, pointing to a large glass container with a domed lid. It was about the size of a large, high sided frying pan. It contained what appeared to be a shimmering liquid.

“No, that is a pensieve,” she said. “I use it to save my thoughts so that I can refer back to them. It’s very useful for potions work.”

“Oh, sort of like a notebook,” said Jacob. “I have just such a notebook of my grandmother’s recipes to which I am constantly adding my own variations. I will show it to you.

“You have many bottles of varying size,” he said. “Do they also contain potions?”

“Some do, yes; most contain ingredients for making potions,” said Queenie. “I do have a veritas potion which compels the drinker to speak the truth when questioned. I have a sleeping potion, a calming draft, a potion to shield against spells and curses, a…”

“A love potion?”

“No, no love potion,” she said, smiling. “It’s not necessary.”

“No it’s not necessary and not wise.”

“No, my beloved intended, not wise,” said Queenie replying with his own thoughts, “It’s a deception. We all made love potions in Ilvermorny.—Oh, Ilvermorny is the name of the wizard school in America.—The potions master made each of us take it, one at a time, so each knew what he could make another do, but also how helpless he was when taking the love potion. And how it felt when the effects wore off, because you remembered everything. The potions master chose who would take whose potion. It was a horrible and depressing feeling after the release—a very vicious potion. I haven’t made it since and I don’t have any here.”

“Judging from the number of different bottles on your shelves, I would guess that you are a very able potions master yourself,” said Jacob, visibly impressed.

“Yes, very able,” said Queenie. “It was my best subject at school and I have worked hard on my own to become better. Most of the witches and wizards I know do not think much of potion making for themselves. It’s too easy to buy quality potions without the risk of mistake. One interesting fact about potions is that you could make a potion. You needn't have any magical abilities, just the proper ingredients and method. Of course, some of the ingredients would be impossible to obtain without magic.

“The best potion makers are paid very well. They and Legilimenses are among the highest paid; although most work in private shops and most of the Legilimenses are healers. Very few who do not choose healing as their vocation are willing to put in the work to become a Legilimens. Those who work for the MACUSA are not so good at it.”

“But you are both; yet you work as a clerk in Wand Permit Office.”

Queenie thought to herself that she was learning everything about Jacob from his mind. He could have no secrets from her; she should have no secrets from him, and he needed to know this.

“Yes, I hide my abilities. I hide my skill as a Legilimens from everyone. And, even with potions, I do not reveal my real capabilities. I keep secrets and now I have even more reason to keep secrets,” she said. “At the Wand Permit Office I get to meet almost everyone. That is what I find most satisfying—meeting the children who are just heading off to school when they first register their wands. I look forward to day I see them all grown up when they renew their registration for the first time as adults.”

“When I was very young and my father first realized that I was a natural Legilimens, he cautioned me against letting others know about this. He was a healer—both a natural legilimens as I and trained. I am very cautious about letting anyone know. I always look into a person’s mind to know his character. My father said that others would fear and detest me because I could know their innermost secrets. He said that they would try to control and suppress me. I have, ever since, kept his admonition in mind with everything I did. He let me practice on him so that I could learn and hone my skills without anyone knowing, so I was also trained, although not officially. And for the longest time I only practiced with him. Oh, sometimes I would look into Tina’s mind, but even this I kept a secret from her until our father and mother died. When I told Tina what I could do she was both shocked and amazed, but she agreed to allow me to practice with her if I told her I was doing it. I was so happy. I was afraid she would leave me when she learned and I needed her. We were both so alone.

“My father’s caution was driven home to me shortly after his death. School had been such a joy; there was always something new to learn, something new to do. I began experimenting with my potion making on my own in secret. The summer break was coming up and I realized that I would not be able to find the ingredients for my experimenting at home without a wand. Oh, I could have bought ingredients, but I didn’t have much money to buy all that I wanted. The MACUSA had taken my father’s and mother’s wand, and we were not allowed to take our wands from school. So, I decided to learn everything I could about wand making before the end of the school year.

“Well, I made the wand that summer and it worked—sort of. I was so very pleased with what I had done, I brought it to school to show my friends. This was a fortunate mistake, for once the secret was out, it was not long before a teacher learned of it.”

“I take it that the teachers were not as pleased with your accomplishment as were you,” said Jacob, smiling.

“No, not at all,” she said. “They took the wand I had made and I was given a month detention and required to write a long essay on the law that forbid students from taking their wand out of the school and why it was so dangerous. They did return the wand to me when I finished school.

“I soon realized that the summarization of the law that I found in the school library said little more than, ’student with wand outside school—bad. Student with wand inside school—good.’ Because I was assigned this essay as a punishment, I was able to get permission from the librarian to access the forbidden section of the library to research the law. My punishment seemed to act as a key that granted permission; I was being punished, so the librarian thought nothing of my request.

“I soon learned that this section of the library contained much more than esoteric legal references. The wand restrictions were part of an expansive set of restrictions on magical activities including the ban on marriage with no-majs. Oh, we all knew that magic/no-maj marriages were forbidden; what I did not know was how harsh the penalties were. Not only was the memory of the no-maj obliviated, so also was the memory of the children for the no-maj parent, unless they were very young. And if the witch or wizard did not agree to this, then his memory would be obliviated and his children taken by the MACUSA. The records were clear; they emphasized that no witch or wizard ever refused to agree to this.”

“I suspect that seeing no other recourse, the witch or wizard would be terrified into submission, not wanting his children to suffer the fate of his wife or husband. It does not speak well for your MACUSA. Some of these United States have anti-miscegenation laws such as yours which forbid marriage between people of different races,” said Jacob. “But nothing as harsh as you describe, no matter what individual people thought of such marriages.”

“Yes, harsh, and wrong. However, we must know where evil exists, so, no sadness,” she admonished lightly. “My punishment was serendipitous.”

“I quickly finished my essay, careful to not write about the marriage ban; I began looking at other books of restricted magic. I knew that I would not get another chance to spend a month in this place to study that magic that was forbidden to us. What I needed was to get the books out; and, with the help of a sleeping potion added to the librarian’s tea, I did; they are all here,” she said pointing at the miniature library in her cabinet.

“The first thing I studied while there was how to copy books. When I could duplicate a book properly, I settled down to learning how to shrink those books so I could smuggle them out. I had yet to learn how to expand the inside of an enclosed space.”

She was about to go on when she saw that Jacob could not get his mind off the thoughts of the two of them not having any memory of the other.

She told him of the witch she sought out that following summer. One of the forbidden manuscripts she had discovered identified those witches and wizards, and those children who suffered at the hands of MACUSA officials. He did not need to know of her disgust at what she discovered. He did not need to know her sadness—nor the hatred she felt towards those who had so horribly persecuted this witch. A hatred that matched his own.—Not now. But he did need to know everything she had discovered.

“We will work it out,” she said gently. “And we will not embark on a campaign to correct these wrongs. We will hide our love as I have hidden my ability and accomplishments.”

After a thoughtful pause which she followed without interruption, he asked. “Did you excel in endeavors other than Legilimency and potions?”

“Yes, I excel in many areas of magic,” she said, smiling infectiously.

Seeing his anxiety melt away at her pride and happiness—she saw a thought in his mind. “Sun Tzu—The Art of War?”

“An ancient Chinese general who wrote about dealing with the enemy,” he replied. “I will show you. I have always had a fascination with history—it was my best subject in school, and I continue to read and study it. History often is a tale of war, and concealment is crucial to winning a war.”

She nodded and slid aside another glass door, “Look here; these two are portkeys that you could use. I used them to pop out of and back into school. I created them in my last year. An interesting thing about these portkeys is that they had to be created on the school grounds. The protections in place at Ilvermorny will prevent a portkey made outside those protections from working to portkey in or out. I have no need for them, now that I can apparate, although I can’t apparate within the Ilvermorny grounds.—Yes, you can handle them. Just don’t insert the key and turn it.”

Jacob pick up one and turning it over, said, “It looks like an ordinary padlock—larger then normal with an oversized shackle.”

“It is meant to,” said Queenie. “And it functions like a normal padlock when opened by the normal key, the one with the round bow. Only the key with the clover shaped bow will activate the portkey. I made it with the large shackle so that several people can use it at the same time.”

“I was wondering how I might activate a portkey without magic,” he said excitedly. “You’ve solved the problem of using a key as a mechanism to activate the portkey. Now it’s only the problem of having multiple destinations to choose from.”

Queenie was much relieved by Jacob’s excitement as she thought about what was needed to have a portkey that enabled one to choose destinations. She let him explore and handle various magical items in the cabinet. When she explained the omnioculars as not just being able to see things at a distance, but also record and play back what was recorded, he mentioned that they might be of use on their trip to Naples.

She showed him various wands that she had made, including one that was a gold diadem, a single flat band, decorated with a Greek Key pattern, that wrapped the wearers head with a kneeling silver unicorn in high relief, centered on the forehead.

“The diadem is not actually gold and silver,” She explained. “It is only gilded. The wand must be wood, but it does not have to be straight. It’s just made so for the purpose of pointing when casting a spell. All that I did for pointing was to have the short straight section of the unicorn’s horn point forward. I would only have to look at my target to use the wand. I did this for fun. It’s too fancy to wear every day, but it is my best wand. I found that the added length was critical in making the wand more powerful. The wand core is almost two feet long. A normal wand is around one foot long.”

Jacob thought that a hidden wand should be something commonplace like the portkeys she had made, a piece of jewelry. Hmm, maybe it’s not too fancy. He did not speak; she knew.

She knew that the problems they would face in a forbidden marriage would not depress him. He was just too excited about life and too focused on how to live for him to worry much about those who thought they could treat him as a farm animal—that is what he thought of those who thought they knew better than he how he should live his life. Everything new that he saw presented him with new opportunities for building that life and armoring the two of them against any MACUSA assault.

Chapter 3: Chapter III - The Italian Escapade
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter III
The Italian Escapade

Jacob and Queenie stood on the rim of Vesuvius looking through the omnioculars over the red roofs of the city of Naples as they were slowly illuminated by the rising sun.

Still bound to Jacob, Queenie oriented her vision of Enrico’s street so she could apparate to a side alley where they would wait for Enrico to leave his home for his shop.

As Jacob untied the ropes that bound Queenie to his back, he said, “I truly enjoy that apparating squeeze. We should do this more often, although as a practical matter I suppose I should really have a portkey dial to lessen the burden on you.”

“You are no burden,” said Queenie, as she set up the omnioculars to record their movements on the streets of Naples below them. “What do you mean by portkey dial?”

“You remember; you told me all about portkeys when we were apparating over and into Lake George for our practice trials. I thought you might combine multiple portkeys in one small device with a dial access to each. It could be like the dial of the telephone I saw on the desk of the banker who granted me my loan. Then I could dial up a place and pop over on my own.” said Jacob.

“What’s a telephone?”

And so it went even after she had apparated them to the alley, until Queenie saw Enrico coming out of his front door. Quickly they both approached Enrico from behind.

“Enrico Gagliastro?” queried Jacob.

Enrico stopped and turned to the voice. “Sì.”

“Please excuse my forwardness,” said Jacob, offering the letter Ciro had written. “It is important that we speak. We are sent by the husband of your niece, Angela. Take this letter; it will explain who we are and why we are here.”

Enrico read Ciro’s letter. “You will do this for us?”

Jacob nodded.


“It was requested as a personal favor for one Jacob Kowalski. I believe that Ciro’s letter explains why.”

Queenie smiled and said somewhat cryptically, “And this is what we do, my Georgie and I. We travel and make arrangements for others to travel.”

Enrico cast a puzzled look at this elderly well dressed couple.

“You have many questions,” said Queenie. “It is best that you do not know who we are or how we operate. In fact, it would be best if you did not tell your wife and family about us. If we are successful, you will simply apply for your emigration papers, book passage, and leave. But do nothing until we return and say that you can proceed.”

“For now, we need a place where we can speak privately,” interjected Jacob. “We need to know what you know about this troubling official, Mr. Boveri.”

“Sì, my shop,” said Enrico. “My English not good.”

“It will be good enough,” said Queenie.

As they were about to leave Enrico’s shop, Jacob asked, “Will the clerk who informed you about Mr. Boveri wanting your daughter be the one to approve your application for emigration?”

Enrico replied that he would.

“We will need to see these two, Mr. Boveri and the clerk,” said Jacob. “We do not need to meet them. It will be enough for you to point them out for us.”

“We will go now,” said Enrico.

Enjoying a cup of coffee across the street from the police station in which this Mr. Boveri had his office, they waited. After a time Enrico pointed out a man walking toward the station, as Mr. Boveri.

Queenie immediately entered his mind, only to realize that he was headed to where they were seated to get his own coffee.

“Enrico, Mr. Boveri appears to be coming here,” she said. “It would be best if he did not see you. There is a back door. Leave that way and we will see you back at your shop.”

Enrico agreed and walked over to the proprietor and then into the back room. When Enrico had left, Queenie sipped her coffee and tasted a pastry, she said, “This is not as good as yours.”

He only smiled, not wanting to distract her as she worked.

By the time Mr. Boveri had left the restaurant, Queenie had isolated his thoughts about Enrico and Mia and oblivated them. He would have no memory of the Gagliastros nor of his orders to prevent them from emigrating.

Walking out of the restaurant Jacob took a small package out of his pocket, unwrapped it and handed one of his own pastries to Queenie, asking, “Did you know?”

Queenie nodded, “But keep trying, I like it.”

“And your target?”

“He has no memory whatsoever of Enrico or his family,” said Queenie. “I did discover while I was rummaging about, that he has a hidden safe with a large amount cash taken through bribes and extortion.”

“If you can take it with no danger to yourself, you should,” said Jacob quickly. “You can obliviate his memory of the money and the safe.”

Jacob saw that Queenie was stunned by his suggestion. “Look inside as to what I intend.”

Queenie did and knew that Jacob sought only to relieve Boveri of his ill gotten gains. He was adamant as to the morality of removing from Mr. Boveri all of the money he had stolen.

“All right, Jacob,” she said. “We will give Enrico enough for a first class passage and scatter the rest in the marketplace. However, I think that we should wait until Enrico has sailed before scattering the money.”

“Granted!—Say, do you know where his safe is?”

Taking Jacob’s hand, Queenie said, “Let’s linger a bit; I will follow him inside and try to pick up a picture from his mind.”

Strolling hand in hand, Jacob asked, “Can you see what he sees?”

“Not really, but I can see what he is thinking when he sees something. It’s as if I see what he is focused on. I don’t see other things that might be in his field of vision. I can also see in his mind what he hears—the things that draw his attention.”

“Hmm,” mused Jacob. “I don’t see the difference, but as long as you know where the safe is and how we can get to it, OK.—Say, if you don’t understand Italian, how can you know what he is thinking?”

Queenie remained silent; Jacob knowing, did not pursue his question.

“I have what we need,” said Queenie. “Now, we should see Enrico and have him point out this clerk.”

Before leaving to meet with Enrico, she answered Jacob’s question, “A Legilimens does not see words in someone’s mind, he sees emotions and concepts, not the specific labels for the concepts. When I was a girl at Ilvermorny I helped a witch from Greece with her English. Athene Metaxas came in my forth year. By using Legilimency I was able to see what she meant and guide her to the proper English phrasing. We became good friends; together we worked to create a portkey, but her father took her out in the middle of our fifth year before we could figure out how to do it. I sent her an owl, but it came back undelivered. I haven’t heard anything of her since she left school.”

Queenie, having oblivated all memories the clerk had of putting a hold on Enrico’s emigration as well as the orders from Mr. Boveri, apparated herself and Jacob to the rim of Vesuvius for a late picnic lunch and to wait for evening when Mr. Boveri would be leaving work.

Jacob and Queenie walked along the street, which was crowded with people heading home from work and various officials leaving the government building. They stopped by an alley and Queenie took off her shoes which Jacob put in a briefcase he now carried. Queenie then disillusioned herself. For all intents and purposes it appeared to anyone watching that she had left to go down the alley. Neither said anything but Queenie could read the appreciation Jacob felt as they walked hand in hand.

He left her and crossed the street to wait. She slipped into the government building as others were leaving and walked unnoticed to Mr Boveri’s office to wait for him to leave. When he opened the door to tell his secretary that he would need some report on his desk first thing in the morning, she slipped in through the open door. She entered his mind, took a seat in his office, and waited for him to finish.

She saw his plans for that evening. He would meet a young woman from whom he was extorting certain favors and then join some other party members for a few drinks and talk about party business. When he finally left, she followed him in his mind down the stairs, she oblivated his memory of the safe combination, the safe, and the money. She remained in his mind even as he left the building in case she would have to touch him again. Then as an afterthought, she removed all memories of this young woman he was planning to meet. She smiled as she saw in his mind only thoughts of spending the evening with other fascist party members.

“Alohomora,” Queenie easily opened the safe and floated the contents to Boveri’s desk where she examined them. In addition to the money she found a gun, which she floated back into the safe, and a book which appeared to be a journal of some sort. She shrunk the money and the book, putting all in her small purse.

She apparated to the alley and from the shadows checked to see that no one was looking. She removed the disillusionment spell and walked out to meet with Jacob.

“It’s done,” said Queenie.

“Done?” repeated Jacob.

Queenie could see in Jacob’s mind, the stirrings of a long forgotten memory brought about by this one word. Later she thought as she considered now for the first time that there might be a hope for restoring Jacob’s memory.

“Yes, but now we have something else to consider. I found a ledger of sorts in the safe. I would like to ask Enrico about it.”

“That’s the problem with spending so much time in someone else's mind. There is always something else to set right. Oh well, let’s get to it,” he said with a sigh.

Queenie laughed out loud at his lighthearted humor. She was truly happy. He was the only one who felt at ease with her being able to read his thoughts.

Back with Enrico, Jacob showed him the ledger and asked what he thought it was.

After leafing through the ledger, Enrico asked, “Where did you get this?”

“We got it from Mr. Boveri,” said Jacob. “But that is not important. Can you guess what this is?”

“I do not guess,” replied Enrico. “See, my name. This is list of payments demanded.”

“Before we go, we would like you to read each name while pointing to it,” said Jacob.

When he had done so, Queenie obliviated his memory of the ledger.

“Enrico, everything is ready for you,” said Jacob. “You should arrange to emigrate as soon as possible.”

“Also, Enrico, you should arrange to ship all you need to start up in America,” said Queenie.

“And book first class passage,” said Jacob.

“I cannot afford first class,” said Enrico.

“Do not concern yourself,” said Queenie smiling broadly. “We will see you tomorrow evening and provide you with the money you will need.—It is what we do.”

After taking their leave from Enrico, Queenie apparated them to outside the bar where she knew Boveri would be drinking. Once again disillusioned with the ledger in hand she entered and stood off to the side against a wall. When she had located Boveri and entered his mind she silently read down the ledger and name by name she oblivated all of his memories of that specific person. When she had finished, she removed the memory of the ledger and the gun she had returned to the safe before she apparated to where Jacob waited in the shadows.

Alone on the rim of Vesuvius, they packed up the omnioculars and Jacob synched tight the ropes that bound Queenie to his back and just before she began their apparating jumps back to Jacobs shop, he said, “I am amazed at the power you wield.”

It was still the middle of the afternoon when they arrived back in his apartment, above his shop. Jacob looked in to see how his assistant, Andrew, was doing. Satisfied he left Andrew to finish the day and close up. He and Queenie ascended up to his apartment where they both lay down for a nap. Magic could not undo the effects of a lack of sleep. They later descended to prepare for the next day as they had that evening after dinner with Ciro when they first conceived of this escapade.

The next afternoon, leaving Andrew in charge of the shop, they returned to give Enrico the money, and learn when he would disembark for America and when they would arrive.

“Keep this money secret,” said Jacob. “You will receive much better treatment if it is thought that you are wealthy, but don’t let anyone know you have so much cash.”

Before they left, Queenie said, “We will be back for your departure. Good bye for now.”

Back in his apartment, he went down to his shop and Queenie apparated to the Entering Chamber and walked to her office. She had worked through lunch and took a late lunch in the afternoon. She had been gone only an hour. No one noticed.

It was less than a week after Jacob and Queenie saw Enrico off to begin his transatlantic passage to America, that they, as themselves, waited for him to disembark.

As they were leaving for the taxis Jacob had hired to take them to Ciro’s apartment where they would stay for the first few days, Enrico commented that Jacob’s agent, whose name he still did not know, was right about how just looking wealthy eased their way through customs. Of course Queenie standing off to the side with her fingers grasping her wand hidden in the pocket in the folds of her skirt, making use of the imperious spell, and saying casually to no one in particular, “I am sure there will be no problems,” might have helped the customs officer to speed things along. But only Jacob would know this and he only later after they were alone.

When Jacob, Ciro, and Enrico had moved all baggage into Ciro’s parlor, they all sat down to a buffet that Angela had prepared which included pastries from Jacob.

“Jacob, I must thank you properly,” said Enrico. “I have thought about this much during our passage. I will make you a watch.”

“That is very gracious of you,” said Queenie. “But please; this is what we do.”

Enrico was startled by what she had said. “The old woman said just that, ‘this is what we do.’ ”

Both Queenie and Jacob realized her mistake. It was Jacob who spoke. “I guess we are not very good at this secret agent stuff. Queenie is very close to these British agents. They are very old acquaintances of hers and her parents before, and they were acting at her request, without permission. Since Queenie is known to their supervisors, we thought it best that her name not be mentioned. From what little Queenie has told me, they will occasionally use unapproved methods.”

“Then I will make a watch for each of you,” Enrico said.

“Now, about that watch,” said Jacob lightly smiling at Queenie. “Could you make a watch with an extra hand and buttons around the edge so that when a button was depressed and the hand set in motion, the hand would move to the button and stop?”

Enrico thought a moment and nodded, “Sì. It would be like a stopwatch.”

“Good, but not now. We can talk about this later,” said Queenie, knowing what Jacob had in mind—seeing that he had modified his original idea of a portkey dial. “For now you must get yourself firmly planted here with your business well established. And we need to be getting back so Jacob can prepare for tomorrow.”

As Queenie and Jacob walked down the street, she took her wand and disillusioned them both. Turning and pulling him to her, she said, “I will take us back quickly,” before apparating them both to Jacob’s apartment above his shop.

“You can’t get your mind off that portkey, can you?” chided Queenie after she verified they were alone in his apartment and removed the disillusionment charm.

“No, I keep thinking about all of the things I could do, even with a watch that could transport me to only 12 different places,” said Jacob. “Of course if the portkey could make use of two hands and a combining of two buttons then I could jump to 144 different places, and if one of those buttons would bring me back to my jumping off place…”

“Whoa, your imagination is running away with you,” said Queenie. “I don’t know if what you are thinking is even possible. Multiple portkeys within one physical object is difficult enough, but working off multiple buttons as in a combination lock is a different problem. One is a matter of setting up each of 12 separate pieces within the watch as its own portkey. The other is a matter of bringing two or more separate pieces together to be a unique portkey. And…”

“OK, I get it,” said Jacob. “It will take some study.”

“…to jump back—I don’t know.”

“OK, maybe just two portkeys to begin with,” he said. “One to come here and one to come to your apartment. We can work on a…”

“Oh, I didn’t see that one coming,” she said.

“Ah, spontaneity works for a surprise,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently.

“Yes, it was nice, but I think it would be a mistake for you to surprise me by coming to my apartment. Let me bring you after I check as I did before. I think that you should remain away from any place known to the magical world.”

“I haven’t told you about Panty,” she said. “Ruggero Pantano is a wizard working at MACUSA. Before I told you that I was a witch, he had secretly attempted to pry into my activities when he saw that I was bringing pastries to the office. He tried to use a particular curse to force me to obey—to not be evasive in answering his questions. I was able to resist without him knowing I was. When I entered his mind, I saw that he had no purpose other than curiosity. While he used very slight force, he used a dangerous curse in a most casual way. I removed his memory of being curious.”

“Have you reported him?” asked Jacob.

“It is not something I could prove, although an official Legilimens or an authorized use of veritas serum would certainly reveal the truth; I also had things to hide. And, while he is not very powerful himself, he is well connected to some very powerful people. I do not want anyone investigating what I am doing—for any reason.”

“He will be back,” he said. “He will see you bringing the pastries and again be curious. After all, I came back.”

Both pleased and frightened by his words, she said, “I can deflect his efforts and still look into his mind to see what he knows—what he wants. He apparently does not employ Occlumency to divert me.”


Chapter 4: Chapter IV - New Magic
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter IV
New Magic

Queenie saw Bob Holden emerge from the elevator that would have brought him from his work shop. Standing and waving she called him over, “Bob, come over; I brought pastries today.”

“This is quite good,” he said, making smalltalk. “Much better than those for sale in the canteen.”

“Oh, the canteen is horrible,” replied Queenie. “I like to eat in the no-maj restaurants when I am not bringing my own lunch. They give me a choice of so many different cuisines to choose from. I just apparate out, eat, and apparate back.”

“Shh, don’t speak too loudly about that,” he said quietly. “I wanted to thank you for the Panty caution; I was ready for him when he came. When you get a break, come to my shop off the concourse; there is something I wish to tell you, and we can talk about wand making.”

Queenie did not wait long before taking her break and descending to the concourse where she found the thoroughfare busy with shoppers. She entered Bob’s shop to the ring of the door bell. She stood in the empty shop remembering when she was last here as a young girl, so many years ago. It was as if it was yesterday. Everything was so clean and neat, the large comfortable chairs for waiting customers—and—the stained glass door with so many very young witches and wizards casting spells as they danced about each other. Behind that door Bob had interviewed her and evaluated her magic with a variety of wands he took from a wall of small drawers; each drawer, about four by six inches, holding one wand.

“Oh, hi Bob,” she said as he entered through the stained glass door. “I was just remembering when I was last here.” She gently slipped into his mind.

“I remember that day; you were very excited and very difficult.”


“Oh yes,” he said. “I can usually pick a dozen or so from which a child can choose, but for you, not only did your interview take longer, I had to lay out over two dozen from which you could choose. Your parents were among a few who brought their children here to preselect their wands which I would then bring to Ilvermorny for the formal ceremony of wand selection. Most parents preferred to get their children’s wand from one of the more well known wand makers.”

He took his wand in hand and pointed to open a drawer and float an index card to them. “Ah, yes, you chose from 26 wands.”

He sent the card back and closed the drawer saying, “I wanted to speak to you privately because Panty did eventually come to me. He wanted me to make him a wand secretly that he would not register. I had a bit of fun with him; I doubt he will make that request again.”


“I purposely misunderstood him. I yelled at him angrily: ‘Is this a test? Are you testing my adherence to the law—my integrity?’ I informed him that every year I was questioned under veritas serum and asked if I had sold or passed on to another a wand without sending the proper sales registration data to the Wand Permit Office to be compared to the wand when the owner registered his wand. But you would know this.”

“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t know that you were put under veritas serum. I would never become a wand maker if I had to do that. They could ask anything.”

“It’s not as bad as that,” he said. “There are strict rules as to what questions can be asked. “In fact the questioner reads from a list of prepared questions and I have a court appointed agent to represent me and see that nothing else is asked and to escort me to the lounge where I will remain alone until the serum has worn off.”

“Well, that’s better—I guess,” she said, noticing in his mind, only the pleasure at putting Panty in his place and the justice of it. Knowing what he did, she asked, “What did you do?”

“In front of him, I sent off letters to the president, every congressional representative, and every department head expressing my disgust with him and my distain for anyone who would instruct him to do such a thing. He left my shop visibly shaken. If he is wise he will admit his guilt and take his punishment. If he does not, he may find himself going under veritas serum for questioning as to his true motive.”

“He might seek revenge,” she said. “You have exposed him very harshly.”

“I have, but although I acted hastily, I was right to do so,” he said. “And he did try to use the imperious curse on me. Keep in mind that while there are subtle ways to deflect the imperious curse, intense anger at what is being required of you can also work; it tends to shock the one attempting the curse and drive out any thoughts of making such demands again at a later date.”

“You are probably right,” she said, making a mental note of his retort as an effective response to the imperious curse. “Although, it probably depends on what is asked. In my case I simply gave him what he wanted as he was not asking me to violate a trust. It does not matter that he knows that I buy the pastries from a no-maj baker.”

“Well, be cautious when Panty is around,” he said. “He has a vicious character and it will not matter that he does not see you as in any way connected to what I did. He is apt to lash out against anyone.”

“I will,” she said. “And stop by in the mornings. I bring pastries on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I will hold one back for you.”

“Thank you, I would like that. Now, tell me about your wand making experience. I will set up a work station and you can visit again. But first, this. I have done this for a few others but mostly it is for myself.”

He drew one of the drawers out of the cabinet and placed it on the table between them. “I notice that you are wearing a ring on your right hand with the Pukwudgie seal. I assume that that was your house at Ilvermorny?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Is there any magic with the ring?” he asked. “It is important to know because what I will do will destroy any magic that is a part of the ring.”

“No—no magic,” she replied wondering what he had in mind as she slid the ring off her finger.

Without a word, he retrieved a ring of his own with a long pointed curved hook that extended past his fingernail so that when he put it on his index finger, his finger bent down in a curve along the underside of the hook.

With her ring held steady in a small vice, he traced the outer edge of the Pukwudgie seal. When he had done, he lifted the seal which now was held by a hinge and catch to reveal the base of the ring below the seal. With a tap of the hook, he created a small chamber within the ring.

Queenie knew what he had done; she had done such things herself as with her workshop and storage room, and she had seen the magic in his mind. However, when he inserted the hook into the small cylinder he had created and traced the inner surface of the cylinder, she did not understand. She saw no evidence of change and she did not understand the magic.

When he withdrew the hook from her ring it vibrate slightly in the vice for a short time. He removed it from the vice and slid it onto her finger; he tapped the inside of the drawer with his ring hook, took a slip of paper, wrote on it, put it in the drawer, and sent the drawer to its slot in the cabinet. As soon as the drawer closed, she felt her ring vibrate.

“Press the small button by the catch to pop up the seal cover.”

She did and pulled out a tightly rolled slip of paper on which was written: Write your message on a slip of paper, roll it, and slide it into the ring. I will receive it here.

Queenie wrote on the back of the rolled paper and put it back into the ring. As soon as she snapped shut the seal, the drawer began to vibrate, with the nameplate on the front glowing brightly.

Bob took the message from the drawer causing her ring to vibrate again and read: Does this work like a portkey?

“That is very perceptive of you,” he said. “It is a portkey with a few added features to prevent the wearer or holder from being transported.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “The trigger for the ring is in the catch, and the destination and transportation part is the inner part of the cylinder below the seal. Oh, and you must have expanded the inside. Hmm, I did not think that that could be done with a portkey—the expanding magic, that is.”

“Even better, even better,” he said, happy with her grasp of the problems. “Yes, expanding the inside of the portkey is somewhat tricky. However, the difficult part is making the portkey, which is really a sleeve that resides inside the box or your ring, transport to inside the other sending portkey. The rest of it is easy. It’s just a matter of having the trigger for my drawer portkey be a part of the cabinet and isolating the portkey from touch.”

She still did not understand the magic, but now she knew what was done and more importantly that it could be done. “Will you show me this now? We can put off my wand lessons to a later date.”

“Of course we can,” he said. “But, before we do, I want you to know how much I appreciate your warning about Panty. He is not very powerful as magic goes, but he is vicious. He is the kind of person who will go behind your back to ruin you, all the while smiling and engaging in pleasant conversation. Your warning to me showed me that you were a person of good character, just and courageous, willing to intercede to thwart an evil.

“Of course, you are young and perhaps you just didn’t realize the danger into which you placed yourself. If that is the case, it is even more important that you know how much I appreciate what you did, so that you can cultivate that spontaneous character into a more deliberate certainty.”

She saw only sincerity in his mind.

When Queenie left, she had two boxes of her own making, each with a sliding drawer that could be pull out from either end of the box and would trigger the portkey when pushed shut to send what it held to the other.

Alone after helping Jacob prepare for the next day Queenie apparated with him to her apartment. Inside her library and storage room, she said, “Come here, you will like this.”

Explaining about her ring that Bob Holden had modified and demonstrating how the two boxes worked to send letters, each to the other, she said, “I can keep one box at my desk and you can keep one at your shop. We can instantly mail each other when we are not together. It would be like the no-maj telephone, but just for us.”

She was surprised that he thought it a bad idea. “I thought that you would like this,” she said.

“I do, but we are deep within enemy territory—a vicious enemy from what you have told me and what I have read here in your history books. We should not become comfortable—complacent—with what is easily done to make life pleasant for us. You said as much when I suggested a portkey to travel to your apartment. It would be too easy for someone at my shop or your office to stumble upon these boxes and start asking questions. We are only beginning my beloved intended.

“Did you pickup any thoughts of secrets he wished to keep hidden?”

“No, his thoughts were only on what he was showing me and his sincere appreciation for my warning,” she said.

“Is that normal?” he asked. “From what you told me about Legilimency, the Legilimens must work to keep from being flooded with random thoughts and emotions.”

“True, he might be employing occlumency. He could be using his thoughts of work and his appreciation for my warning as a deflection.—Although, if he had some dark secret and was attempting to deceive me, he would not be able to fake sincerity.”

“Ok, but be careful to not reveal that you are Legilimens,” he said. “You will eventually know if he is employing occlumency, just from what you cannot see. We must be mindful of even the most mundane thoughts or actions or things.”

“Like a watch that is also a portkey,” she said.

“Yes, it’s almost as if you could read my mind,” he teased. “Oh, you can. And, with a hunter case, the cover could contain the message portkey chamber within the button portkey for us or a double chamber for message sending and receiving if you find overlapping portkeys a problem.”

“It won’t be a problem. We should visit Enrico,” she suggested.

“We should, but not for this,” he said. “We will have time for this; it’s not urgent. You can enter my mind from wherever you are to know what I am thinking and pop over if you want to tell me something. Speak to Bob Holden about the idea of a watch with such a chamber—two chambers, one to receive and one to send, if it’s simpler—and with a hand that will trigger a specific portkey destination.

“He seems to be interested in making things that can be used by either mag or no-maj—items that may be restricted—items for which he did not get permission.

“Here, take my pocket watch. Ask him if you can make just such a chamber within the case lid—and if you have a locket or something that you could always wear, make it the other half. If you don’t have anything suitable, get it. Or, you can tell me what you would like and I will think about getting it for you and then you can buy it and surprise me with the bill.”

She hugged him and kissed him. “You are so wonderful. But I must get you back now. I must get a good night’s rest. I have an early day tomorrow.”

“You are planning something.”

“Yes I am, and if I didn’t know better, I would think that you could read my mind,” she said as she gathered him into her arms and kissing him, apparated to his apartment. When she was back in her own apartment, she thought about changing the boxes to each have a single receiving compartment/sending compartment—but no, she would speak with Bob about it. She needed her rest, tomorrow would be a long day.

It was 2:00 am when Queenie was awakened. She quickly calmed the soft, plump, plush toy—a Pukwudgie—that had been jumping back and forth on her chest and sent it bounding back to its perch above her dresser. She was ready in moments and taking the two portkey boxes, apparated to 1000 feet above the Atlantic ocean and so on until at 7:15 am London time she waited, residing lightly in Tina’s mind, at the front door of the small Tudor cottage, that was Newt’s home, until she saw that they were ready to leave.

“Good morning,” she greeted as they opened the door to find her standing just outside the doorway. She took her sister by the arm and walked her back into the cottage. “I have brought the two of you a present.”

Setting the two boxes on a table, she addressed Newt, “What, you have not asked Tina yet! Well, you had best be getting on with it. She is wishing you would and she is just dying to say, ‘yes.’ ”

Not waiting for Tina’s blushing response, she took out a slip of paper, wrote on it and put it into one end of the sliding drawer of a box. Handing the other box to Tina, she slid the drawer into the first box, startling her sister as the box she held began to vibrate.

“Well, don’t just stand there, pull it out.”

Tina did and read out loud what was written on the slip of paper. “Let me be the first to congratulate you both on your engagement.”

“Just remember that you send from the outgoing end of the drawer and receive from the incoming end,” Queenie said. “Otherwise, the message will stay where it is. See, one end is labeled outgoing and the other end is labeled incoming. The outgoing chamber contains a portkey that takes what is inside it to the receiving space in the other box and returns empty when the drawer is slid back.—Yes Newt, these boxes may be considered a misuse of muggle artifact by your ministry, and no, I did not get permission to make them,” said Queenie. “But the defect is with your ministry and our congress, not with my use of magic.”

“I do wish that you would not be in my mind as you do,” he said.

“I know, but it is so much fun,” Queenie replied. “Especially with you and Tina. But I only look at the surface and I only reveal to you and Tina that I have. I don’t go rummaging about looking for your deepest, darkest secrets. That I reserve for enemies and one other—and he welcomes me. Your secrets are right there on the surface of your mind.—And besides, you would not know if I did not tell you.—And I only tell you because I trust you.”

Setting the box down, Tina asked, “What have you been doing?”

“You mean other than learning some very interesting magic that can benefit us both?—Yes Tina, you are correct; I do not mean just you and I; I also mean me and someone else.” Queenie smiled and taking Tina’s hand said, “That’s right; it’s who you think. And yes it’s dangerous. That’s why there will be no announcement, no ceremony. Only you and Newt will know.”

She saw that Newt was still puzzled. “All right Tina, I will tell him. Newt, I renewed my acquaintance with Jacob and we are something of an item although an item not known to anyone else—except you,” she said lightly. “See, I really do trust you.

“I was not able to restore his memory, but I told him everything. It was he who suggested apparating to 1000 feet above the ocean and apparating again as I fell.

“Say Newt, where would be a good place to portkey to? We’re looking to make portkeys that we can both use.”

“Slow down Queenie. Are you and Jacob planning to marry?”

“Hmm, yes and no,” said Queenie smiling. “As I said, we will not record our marriage—or we have not recorded our marriage. When we talk, it’s as if we are married. Well, I do the talking and Jacob thinks to me. And he has lost so much weight since opening his pastry shop. He is positively gorgeous.”

“Queenie, be serious.”

“He always was gorgeous. Ok, ok—it’s just that I am so happy,” she said. “And I wanted you to know—and he is; he’s just more so now. Whenever I go deeper into his thoughts, I find that he is always thinking of how he can protect me—how to integrate our two worlds without putting me in jeopardy. He knows the danger I’m in by revealing our world to him. When I told him about president Seraphina acquiescing to Graves ordering your execution for revealing our world to him—for violating the secrecy statutes, he drew me deep into his mind. It was like being pulled in by summoning charm. He sees the danger posed from people, our people, who think of us as farm animals—he sees it so clearly. Yes, that is the concept he used—farm animals. I have no doubts about him. And how he works to provide for us! It’s amazing how hard he works. Ciro said he only put on weight when he started work at the canning factory.”

“Slow down Queenie—Ciro?”

“I’m just so excited. Ciro is a friend of Jacob’s from the war,” replied Queenie. “More than a friend; I will tell you about him and our adventure in Italy later. For now, I must get back; I do need my rest.”

“Queenie, you can’t leave like this; I won’t be any use for wondering,” Tina said. “Besides, you won’t be able to sleep when you get back anyway. You never can after you apparate.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Queenie replied. So she told them about Ciro, and their adventure in Italy, and about Bob Holden, and their thoughts for multiple portkeys and a letter sender in a watch.

“Now, I won’t have anything to write about,” she said feigning distress—then brightly she said as she prepared to leave, “Fear not Tina, I will send you a message when all is consummated. But don’t expect a moment by moment description—of the service.”

Tina could not help but laugh. Even Newt smiled.

When Queenie had left them, Tina said, “I worry about her. I’m afraid that she will slip up and bring the MAUSA down on her head.”

“We will make a place for them here if they have to flee,” said Newt. “I doubt they will need much help. After all, quality pastries are always a welcome find.”

Taking her hand, Newt asked, “Will you?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Chapter 5: Chapter V - A Treasure Beyond Gold
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter V
A Treasure Beyond Gold

Queenie had no sooner arrived back in her room when the box she still held in her hand began to vibrate. She read the message: He asked, I said yes.

After she had placed the box on her dresser, she found that she was able to sleep. The excitement and lack of sleep due to the long conversation with Tina and Newt had exhausted her. It seemed she had no sooner lain down than she was awaken by her bouncing Pukwudgie. She was still tired as she explained to Jacob her visit to Tina and Newt, and headed off to work with only one extra pastry for Bob Holden.

She made an appointment with Bob Holden for the lunch hour. He would close his shop an hour early so they could work undisturbed and she would not be missed.

Once in Bob Holden’s wand emporium, Queenie could not wait. Before they were even seated at his workbench, she asked, “Is that hooked ring you used to change my ring, a wand?”

Holden nodded that it was.

“An unregistered wand?” she asked.

“Technically, yes,” he said. “However, it is a precision tool that all wand makers use. Tools for precision and delicate work were never included in the restrictions on wand use.—Probably an oversight, since the MACUSA seems intent on regulating everything.”

“You don’t seem very worried about it,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “Anything else before we start?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling out Jacob’s pocket watch. “Can we make a portkey out of a watch that would have several buttons to activate different portkey destinations in the same watch and a chamber under the cover for messages?”

“Hmm, yes there should be no problem. Although, a wrist watch would be more secure and the band could contain a chamber for messages,” he replied. “A sweep second hand could move to the activated button and—no, that’s too complicated. It would be better to not involve the watch mechanism at all—too many moving parts that touch each other. The button could activate the portkey. That way you could take an ordinary watch and simply allow the button to insert into a space within the edge of the case, activating the portkey in the same way that your ring activates when the catch is snapped shut. I think that no more than six portkeys would be practical. In order to squeeze the button in, you would have to grip it from the opposite side, so that the watch was pinched between two fingers and only one portkey activated. Activating two portkeys simultaneously would prove troubling.

“However, having multiple portkeys would not be necessary unless you wanted to portkey to and from places where apparition was blocked, because you could always portkey to a remote location and apparate from there.”

“I see,” she said. She found it fascinating and reassuring to witness Bob’s thinking as he worked his way through the problem.

“Of course, such a watch would be of great use to a muggle.”

This shocked her. The words came too quickly, the thoughts too spontaneously, for her to anticipate and prepare a response. Her shock was visible in her expression and he noticed.

“You intend this for a Muggle,” he guessed.

There was no malice in his mind. Even occlumency could not hide malice from a straightforward statement if it was present.

“It’s all right,” he said trying to comfort her.

She did not know what to say. He was too close. He suspected too much. She could only ask, “Are you a Legilimens?”

“No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It would have required too much work and I had no interest in healing. My interests lie elsewhere. I do not know of any wand maker who is a Legilimens. In any case, it is not that useful for building a life—for defending that life perhaps. And it is a magic that people would resent—even good people such as yourself—perhaps, especially good people such as yourself.

“Oh, I grant that there have been times when it might have been useful, but everyone is taught occlumency. I will occasionally employ occlumency for my own protection when I am in the vicinity of MACUSA witches and wizards—and you should also, if you are not already doing so. However, I have discovered that using it interferes with my work—too much concentration is needed for wand making; no room for occlumency.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but now that I do I can see how it would interfere with work as demanding as yours. I do use it, when I’m in the presence of healers and aurors,” Queenie confessed. “My work is not nearly as demanding as yours.” She knew only too well the need to keep a Legilimens out of her mind—to keep anyone at the MACUSA from knowing she was a Legilimens.

“That’s a good practice,” Bob continued. “I’ve been closely observing people for longer than you have been alive. The real problem is knowing a persons character—knowing whether you do or do not want to associate with a particular person. This can be determined by observing whether a person is or is not honest in all his dealings, whether he treats his inferiors with as much respect as he treats his superiors, whether he does or does not treat people consistently the same, granting all the benefit of the doubt before he gets to know them well. Does he dissemble? Then you can arrange such people on a value continuum, with those to value at one end and those to be shunned and looked on with suspicion at the other end.

“A quick estimate can be had by observing, for example, how someone treats a house elf compared to how he treats some department head. There is no doubt as to where on this value continuum Ruggero Pantano is to be placed—and there is no doubt as to where you fall on this value continuum. So, do not fear that I may have guessed that you have a muggle friend whom you have introduced to magic. I will keep your confidence. A friend of honest character is a treasure beyond gold.”

Queenie began to feel that she should not be in Bob’s mind; he was so forthcoming with his words.—She continued with her legilimency. It was as he said defensive. She must know, but she would keep his secrets, although she learned nothing that he did not tell her outright.

“Bob, you used the English word muggle,” she said. “Are you originally from England?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m from here. There is little immigration from England now. No one wants to come here since the MACUSA began instituting wand registration and stricter controls on the use of magic. Even when I was a young man, the immigration had fallen off to a trickle.

“I decided very early on that I wanted to make wands. From my very first experience, before school, when I got hold of my father’s wand and used it to split open the trunk of a fallen tree, I knew that I would some day make a wand. Everything I did was toward that end. I pestered my parents until they took me to England to meet Gerbold Ollivander. He was grooming his young grandson to take over the business, but he agreed to take me on as a student for the summer on a trial basis. So for the last four summers before my graduation from Ilvermorny my father took me to England to learn wand making from Gerbold Ollivander. And, after graduation, I apparated in separate jumps to England to begin what turned out to be a four year apprenticeship. It was there that I met a muggle who would soon become my wife.”

“You shouldn’t tell me that,” responded Queenie spontaneously, alarmed at the thought of the danger Bob could incur with such a revelation. “You shouldn’t tell anyone.”

“It’s all right,” he replied calmly.

“It’s not all right,” insisted Queenie, still very much alarmed. “They will take your children and obliviate their memory of their mother and obliviate her memory of you and them, and if you do not consent to this, they will obliviate your memory of them also. I know, I saw the record. It said that no witch or wizard ever refused to consent, but I think that that is not true.”

Bob conjured a glass and add some water to it. “Here,” he said handing her the glass. “Take a drink of water and try to calm yourself. First, my children are grown and married with children of their own. And I know for a fact that they are all witches and wizards. Even the youngest who is only three has demonstrated magical abilities. Second, my wife is in England. She is English and we both agreed that given the hostility toward no-majs here, she should stay in England where we would raise our children—where they could attend school without being subject to indoctrination at Ilvermorny.”

Visibly relieved, Queenie said, “It must be difficult for you, being away so much.”

“But I’m not away,” he said. “What were we just talking about—portkeys. I portkey to my shop in the morning and back at the end of day. I have never been away. Ok, there is a five hour time difference, but I start the day early and end early. I will return home after our time together. You are one of only a few people who even know I am married—a treasure beyond gold.

“And, yes, unauthorized portkeys must also be authorized. However, my annual veritas serum examination about wand making does not include questions about portkeys. Now, tell me about your wand making.”

Queenie told him about everything she had done, including her punishment in the forbidden section of the library, her discovery of the law mandating that the child of no-maj/mag marriages be taken and the memory of the no-maj spouse and children be removed. She told him of her visit to the witch who after years seemed to be in a daze, forgetting things she had just done. She told him how she had duplicated the books, shrunk them and later printed originals from the duplicates so that her collection would not deteriorate over time. When she had finished, she handed him her diadem wand.

“I see why you were so shocked to hear I had a muggle wife,” he said. “Be assured, I am safe and your secrets are safe with me.”

“You should know that making a wand by splitting the living sapling to insert the wand core, as you did with the first wand you made, is a very closely guarded secret,” Bob continued. “The rudimentary wand that you made would have been not quite so rudimentary had you the proper tools and known about binding the wounded sapling with silver wire. We can work on that.”

“The books only mentioned the splitting of the sapling, saying that the method was not used because it took too long for the sapling to grow,” she said.

“Yes, that’s what the books say,” said Bob with a smile. “Well, it does take long for a sapling to grow, but you can easily insert six wand cores around the sapling and since the wand core is only about a foot long, you can insert a set of six wand cores, one set above another, for six to twelve sets, depending on the height of the sapling. This method is not slow. It is a method of creating wands in large batches. In fact, your wand was made that way. It only takes a few months for the sapling to heal around the wand core. All my wands are made that way. Most do not know this; you know—you figured it out yourself.”

“Now, this is fascinating,” he said. “The core is off center. Hmm, you made small cross cuts on the inner side of the wand so that you could bend it without breaking the wood. The wand core is actually along the outer edge of the diadem head band.

“Did you steam or soak the wand to bend it?”

“I tried both,” Queenie replied. “Both worked for bending, but steaming, while faster, reduced the effectiveness of the wand. I made the cuts to make the bending of the soaked wood easier.”

“You have accomplished a lot on your own; I would suggest that if you make another curved wand that you make the cuts in the living sapling, bend it, and allow it to heal along with the cut for the wand core,” Bob said. “The silver wire will hold the bend and you won’t have to soak it to bend it.

“Very few have gone so far without instruction. You should seriously consider wand making as a profession. You have a very real knack for it.”

“I very much appreciate your saying so,” Queenie said flushing with pride. “I will pursue it, but only for myself, not as a profession. I would find it unbearable to make a wand for Seraphina Picquery or even for Panty. I simply couldn’t do it.”

“I understand the feeling,” Bob said. “I too have experienced such reservations, but except for a few, at eleven we cannot tell who will be the ones to cultivate a vicious character—and even with those few we can only guess. It is not the fault of the wand but of the education. The wand just augments the wizards natural magical power. And,…”

“…And—Power corrupts,” interrupted Queenie.

“And—absolute power corrupts absolutely,” he said completing her phrase. “You are full of surprises, Queenie Goldstein. Yes, the power to command obedience from others is corrupting, but worse is the corrupting effect of magical power on the witch or wizard who employs it. Magic makes everything too easy for us. It destroys the spirit, the drive to achieve. It’s as if when the child completes his schooling and has learned a little magic, he has a fortune and does not have to work very hard to live a pleasant life.

“We don’t innovate—not even in our use of magic. Consider clothes washing; we do it the way the muggles do it. Oh, we use magic to make it faster and easier so that we can do something else at the same time, but why do we wash clothes at all, when we can duplicate an article of clothing, wear the duplicate and then disappear the duplicate when done—no washing necessary. Not only do we save on the time and expense of washing, our clothes that are kept covered, sheltered from water and dust, and never worn, never wear out. The original of the shirt I am wearing resides on a shelf, wrapped in paper, just as clean and pressed as when I bought it over ten years ago. But I know of very few who duplicate clothing for a single use. Do you know of any?”

Shaking her head she said, “No.” It was not something that ever occurred to her.

“Every witch and wizard, even those of modest ability, could be rich in comfort and time, but as you know they are not. We follow the lead that the muggles set, even in our poverty. That saying about power was from a muggle historian. We, with all our magic, live essentially as do the muggles.”

“Do you think that the International Statute of Secrecy restrictions on contact with no-majs is responsible?” she asked.

“It is much more complicated,” he answered. “The statute was a consequence of our problem. It was fear and panic that meant there would be no rational attempt to determine what should be done, and set the stage for statutes that relied upon oppressive force. It was our ability to wield tremendous power that caused the creators of the statute to look first to coercive force for the answer—they never looked beyond—they never innovated.

“It would be almost 200 years after the statutes before the muggle world began to consider the work of Erasmus and Charles Darwin in the area of human evolution, and Gregor Mendel in the area of heredity. I know of no one else in the wizarding world who is even aware of their work.”

“I don’t understand,” Queenie said. She had glimpsed his meaning but she would let him explain. “What does heredity have to do with the statutes of secrecy? I have never heard of these people.”

“You will now,” Bob replied. “When I met my wife and got to know her, she introduced me to a world of knowledge I never suspected. I will introduce that world to you.

“I was just as ignorant and suspicious of the muggle world as were most in the magical community, but I was beginning to cultivate a love with a muggle woman—an educated muggle woman. It was her character—and yes, her beauty—that bound me in devotion to her and opened my eyes to muggle history, and to wizarding history of which I had a better knowledge than most because history was important to wandlore which was passed secretly from master to student. I became aware of the truly oppressive nature of some of the statutes and why, while the statutes were necessary, the oppression was not. I will bring you copies of my history books and notes.

“The British Ministry of Magic does not encourage intermarriage with muggles, but they do not punish it when it occurs. Of course, the very real prejudice against—and fear of—muggles made working for the ministry out of the question, but that didn’t concern me. I would be making my own way. I would not depend upon government for my livelihood.

“Before we were married, we had worked out how we would live—how we would avoid officious bureaucrats at both the MACUSA and the Ministry of Magic.

“When I learned of the discoveries made by Mendel and the Darwins, I undertook an investigation of my own. I persuaded Headmaster Mordicus Egg at Hogwarts to allow me access to the school records with regard to the parentage of the students. Headmaster Egg had an interest in muggles. I reviewed records going back 200 years prior to the creation of the statutes. I discovered that while witches and wizards born to two muggle parents always had muggle siblings, the number of squibs born to muggle/wizard parents and wizard/witch parents did not vary—did not differ.”

As excited as she was to see what he meant by this, Queenie let him explain. “But very few children are born squib.”

“Yes—yes, we are evolving,” Bob said excitedly. “The statutes are interfering with the natural evolution of man into a species of magical beings. I will bring you some monographs on the subject of evolution and heredity also. It will help you to understand.”

“I think that I am beginning to understand,” said Queenie. “How long before the whole world is magical?”

“I cannot say,” he said. “I can’t even begin to guess. I only looked at the parentage of those who attended Hogwarts. There may be many intermarriages that result in no magical children. And very few witches and wizards marry muggles.

“But enough of this. We have spent too long talking. Next time you will make a ring wand so you can make a proper wand.”

“And portkeys?”

“Yes, portkeys also,” he said. “You already know what to do. The ring wand will make it possible for you.

“But first, this.” Bob opened a cabinet and took out an umbrella, opened it, and told her to take hold of the umbrella. When she had, he twisted the handle. Queenie Goldstein found herself standing in the pouring rain in a forest.

Bob held the umbrella to shelter them both. “An umbrella makes a good portkey since it is often raining in England,” he said. “Come now; I will introduce you to my Hannah.”

Walking a stone path toward a small thatched roof cottage, he explained, “We have only a few minutes. It would not do for you to arrive back to your desk, late from lunch.”

Entering the cottage, he called out, “Hannah, I’m home and I have brought a surprise.”

Hannah was an attractive fair woman, tall with long red hair that was somewhat darker than Bob’s.

“Are you home for dinner?” Hannah asked.

“No, not yet,” said Bob. “I will return at the normal time after I take Queenie back. Are you alone?”

“Yes,” replied Hannah.

“Good,” said Bob knowing now that he was free to talk. “Hannah, this is Queenie Goldstein from work. Queenie, this is my wife Hannah. Hannah, I will be teaching Queenie wand making. She has also provided us with some very delicious pastries for desert. I will leave one for you.”

“I am very pleased that you will leave one for me,” Hannah said, playfully teasing him. “And I am very pleased to meet you, Queenie. Have you eaten?”

Queenie who had remained in Bob’s mind had to think for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about it; I suppose I will eat when I return.”

“That’s fine. I will just fix some tea while Bob shows you around.”

Bob led her through the house to a door that gave entry to a greenhouse. Stepping through, she saw a small vegetable garden in various stages of growth. Stepping through a glass door to a second room she realized that the greenhouse was expanded inside and filled with small diameter trees that were clustered in bunches.

“When I find a tree that I want to coppice, I cut it to ground level, allow it to produce shoots, and carefully excavate the stump and root structure which I transport here for replanting. The different sections of the greenhouse replicate the conditions appropriate for the various trees. Those that do well here in this part of England, I replant outside where we arrived. I cut off some of the new shoots so that they will sprout again the following year. That way each stump will eventually produce saplings that I can harvest each year.”

“Is this the way all wand makers create and harvest wands?” asked Queenie. “It’s not in the books about wand making.”

“No, it’s not in the books,” he said. “Only a few wand makers utilize the method of coppicing. And even this we learned from the muggles. They have been coppicing for thousands of years. Until modern times, they used it to make charcoal for use in smelting metals. It was one of the Ollivander family who first experimented with making a living wand sometime before the founding of Hogwarts. The use of coppicing took the making of wands from the hunting for the appropriate wood, to the farming of wands. So, even in this we only followed the lead of muggles—we did not innovate.”

“If we follow the no-majs’ lead, did the no-majs develop wands first also?” she asked.

“That is an interesting question,” he replied. “They may have. The history of wand making is rather sketchy before the Ollivanders. The Ollivanders are the oldest wand making family still in existence. It was with the Ollivanders that our written history of wands began. The little that is recorded is that before wands, there were talismans. Talismans were a part of the muggles’ superstition in ancient times. Some of these had actual magical properties. Witches and wizards would often become influential members of these various cults. Their magic made for them being the perfect shaman or priest. Witches and wizards were an important part of muggle life. It was a time well before the separation.

“It is believed that the first wands were modified talismans—there is no record of it, but it makes sense that it would be.”

“You said that the secrets of wandlore were passed from master to student, and yet you speak freely of this secret knowledge to me,” queried Queenie.

“But you are my student,” he affirmed. “You have expressed your interest in wand making and confided in me; you said that you would pursue wand making for your own interest and I have decided to teach you. I have no doubt that you will pass on what you learn, even though you will not make it your livelihood. There is no magical oath of secrecy binding the student. It is your character that is the guarantee of secrecy. It is your character that is the guarantee of your judgement.”

Queenie just looked at him. She saw in his mind that he was sincere and without guile in his high praise. She left his mind.

“There is something else that you should know,” he said. “It was as a result of the statutes that wand makers around the world secretly convened their own convention to consider the effects of the statutes on the wand making families in particular and wand making in general. The Wandlore Convention resolved only that the family history and methods of wand making should be shared but kept secret among wand makers and passed only from master to student. The convention with no means of enforcement, relied entirely upon the honor of each individual wand maker. This had the effect of encouraging the observation of individuals to conclude their character.”

“Is that why Gerbold Ollivander accepted you as a student?”

“Yes,” he said. “Some of the wand making families began to look outside the family for possible students. That and the sharing of knowledge and method meant that even if a family died out, the knowledge would not. Now, it is just a matter of seeking the very best in ability and character for passing on the knowledge. And that is why I will accept you as a student if you want to pursue it.”

“I do—I will pursue it,” she said. “Thank you.”

Back at her desk, occasionally taking a bite of the tunafish and egg salad sandwich that Hannah had made for her, Queenie reflected on everything that had happened as she moved mechanically about her afternoon’s work, eager to tell Jacob everything.

The first thing Bob Holden did when Queenie arrived at his shop the following day was to give her copies of his history books and journals. Shrinking them, she said, “I’ll just apparate home with these books and be right back.”

“It would be better if you did not,” he said. “You will have to go to the atrium at the elevator end of the concourse to apparate out and back. If I understand correctly, it is your intention to keep your apprenticeship secret. It will not do for you to be seen coming and going from my shop while I keep it closed to the public for my last hour. Your best option would be to go to some place outside for lunch and then portkey directly into the shop. When done, you can use the return portkey to return to the place from where you portkeyed in. That way you can always go to a different location before portkeying in—not establishing a pattern of movement that might be noticed.”

Excitedly, Queenie said, “I thought about a return portkey, but I didn’t know if it was possible. How?”

“Oh, it’s possible,” said Bob. “It requires a special portkey. We will start on this today. Are you familiar with the Prior Incantato spell?”

“Yes, the wand examiners use it when inspecting a wand for its annual registration,” she said. “I can do it.”

“Excellent, now ask yourself why it is possible to bring out the prior spells from the wand.”

“I hadn’t thought about it. We were taught the spell, but not why it was possible,” she answered. “I suppose the wand keeps a record of the spells.”

“Not exactly,” Bob replied. “The wand core has a memory—a sequential memory. When a wand core is incorporated into the making of a portkey, the portkey remembers and can be triggered to return to its point of origin. This is part of wandlore, secret and generally not known outside the wand making community. You will find that the portkeys that the MACUSA allows out for use are for specific locations; they have no wand core.”

“I see now,” Queenie said. “I’ve assisted the wand examiners at times. We would draw the memory of the wand, one spell at a time, directing it through a piece of spelled parchment to record the spell. The wand record is filed with the wand registration form.”

“That must be awfully tedious.”

“It is, but the examiner only extracts going back a few weeks,” she explained. “If he sees something that catches his eye, he will look further back.”

“What might be something that would raise the examiner’s suspicion?”

“Oh, obviously the Avada Kedavra curse,” she said. “But also something such as legilimency were the wand owner is not a registered Legilimens.”

“The imperious curse?” asked Bob.

“Yes, the owner would have to be authorized to use the imperious curse. Oh, I see. I don’t know if Panty is authorized, but he must be. I don’t have access to the files. I only see those wand registration forms that I handle. The files are kept secure in the Mr Abernathy’s office. Maybe I could try to take a look at his file. It might prove interesting to know what he has been authorized to do.”

“That would be unwise,” Bob said. “You have too much to loose. You are involved with a no-maj and you are required to register your intentions to study wand making as you would be if you were to study Legilimency.

“They would like me to report my students, but I have let them know that if they made it a requirement, I would close my shop. They have not tried to require that.

“And as I believe that you want your studies to be secret, I suggest that you borrow one of my returning portkeys until you make your own.”

Chapter 6: Chapter VI - The Face of the Enemy
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter VI
The Face of the Enemy

That evening Queenie could not wait to tell Jacob of her hour with Bob Holden. She talked continuously as they prepared bread and pastries for the next day; she told him of the ring wand she had begun to make under Bob’s instruction. She showed him the returning portkey and explained about making it with a wand core so that it could remember.

Jacob was quiet, enjoying her excitement, as he went through the routine of preparing for the next day. “You certainly have your work cut out for you,” he said. “As much as I love having you here to help me prepare for tomorrow, I think that if you can arrange it with Bob Holden, you should consider portkeying to his workshop in England after you finish work. You could even use the opportunity to visit your sister. That way there would be no chance of being observed. I don’t know how much flexibility you have at the Wand Permit Office, but perhaps you can arrange to have your hours coincide with his.”

“We will have less time together,” said Queenie.

“Yes, we will, but I can prepare for the next day and we will have the night together. You need to learn as much as you can as fast as you can and I need to know about magic—not just the history of magic. I need to know the context of magic; what can be done; what you can do; what you can’t do—what can harm you.”

“What is troubling you?” asked Queenie.

“You don’t know?” he asked.

“No, I like you to tell me; it’s much better.”

Jacob smiled and nodded his appreciation, “Ok, what I know so far is that we are in great danger from your MACUSA. What I don’t know is what we can do to protect us and ours—I need to know. When you told me about what the wand examiners do, I realized that by examining wands for the magic used they were searching for possible violations that they can use to begin a more thorough investigation.

“When are you scheduled to have your wand examined?”

“Not for another four months, why?”

“The wand examiners will notice any wand use out of the ordinary,” Jacob said. “That is what they look for—a change in pattern, not just serious crimes. It is probably how they first discover no-maj marriages. I need to see what is revealed when you examine a wand.

“You should use your registered wand for everything you would do for yourself and use one of the unregistered wands that you have made to assist me, as when you duplicate my clothes so that they never wear out and I don’t have the expense of washing them. Think what an examiner might make of you disillusioning a no-maj. What questions would he be inspired to ask? How would you answer?”

Queenie had not thought about this. The shock in her face made it clear that she had not.

“This is why I need to know magic—not to do it, but to understand what can be done. You have lived with magic for all your life. It is normal for you; you may not realize what could be dangerous if discovered. I will bring a fresh perspective to our problem of MACUSA spying.

“You know what I say is true; you already go to great effort to hide your Legilimency. It’s not just about what your father cautioned you; it’s about what the MACUSA would do if they learned that you were an unregistered Legilimens.—Are potions masters required to register? Are portkeys?”

“Potions Masters are not registered, but they must be licensed to sell potions. A portkey is a controlled magical item, registered for authorized use.”

“Are sales records reported?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“I have been reading the history you have provided,” he replied. “Very violent, as violent as we in the non-magical community even when you include our wars. Oh, the number of dead cannot come close to those in our wars but the willingness of so many witches and wizards to quickly resort to physical force against someone who steps out of line and for the others to so readily acquiesce is truly barbaric. This is what we face. And you are the one in the middle of all this savagery.”

“Oh, Jacob, it’s not as bad as you think,” said Queenie, thinking only easing Jacob’s anxiety, but beginning to realize the value of his perspective. “We can always move to England. You will have no difficulty starting up a new pastry shop. We will have each other and our children will go to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, we may have to,” replied Jacob. “And that’s all right. I would enjoy starting again in England. But it is as bad as I think. Go into my mind; follow my thoughts; let my words guide you.

“Remember what Bob said—witches and wizards don’t innovate; they follow the lead of the non-magical population. I have been troubled by this ever since you told me. Bob’s examples were of technological innovations such as coppicing. But I think that it is much more. The people who immigrated to the New World were seeking a new life where they could live as they chose. They were fleeing the old oppressive regimes of kings and landed aristocracy. The few witches and wizards who first came, found that their power made them supreme. They brought their own version of the old oppressive regimes.

“The Statute of Secrecy was signed in 1689 in reaction to the no-majs’ own reaction to the wizards. With the signing of that pact of secrecy, wizards began to officially enforce an extreme withdrawal from no-maj society, closing the door on any benefit they might gain from such an interaction. This was a time of beginning for the no-maj people—this was the beginning of the Age of Enlightenment.

“In 1689, John Locke published An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Prior to that, the no-mags’ Thirty Years War was brought to and end with the signing of the Peace of Westphalia in 1648. The various no-mag factions were beginning to learn how to live with each other. But, for the wizarding community, the door was being forcibly shut to developments in the no-maj world—shut to the Enlightenment that would in 200 years give birth to The United States.

“The principle that every individual is endowed with inalienable rights by virtue of his nature as a human being and that the purpose of government is to ‘secure’ these rights is the foundation of the United States government. This principle does not exist for the wizarding world.”

“But that is not true,” said Queenie. “We have a president and a congress much like the American government.”

“Only in name,” replied Jacob.

Queenie gasped at what she saw in Jacob’s mind: The Magical Congress was just a more modern version of the old Saxon Witenagemot, a kings council that would give its imprimatur to the kings wishes—not a true deliberative body—not a true law making congress—not a true separation of powers.

Queenie did not know about the Enlightenment; her history of magic in America did not include it. “Do you really think that the magical world was unaffected by the Renaissance and the developments that followed?”

“I don’t know,” Jacob replied. “Certainly it was affected as it followed the doings of the non-magical world. But enforcement of International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy came at the beginning of the Enlightenment which grew out of the Renaissance, leaving the political thought of wizards mired in the pre-enlightenment era and retreating to the era of the Dark Ages.

“Don't you see, my beloved intended, when America’s founders were completing the constitution that would govern us, the wizarding world in America was creating Rappaport’s Law, banning no-maj/magical contact. The wizarding community was moving back to the dark ages.

“It was not that long ago, just prior to the turn of the century, that mandatory wand registration was made the law, enabling the MACUSA to track the magical use of every witch and wizard. It’s as if the American no-mag government had the ability to track the movement of every individual. The magical community regressed further back into the dark ages.”

Queenie said nothing; deep in Jacob’s mind she tried to understand. “It can’t be as you say. I know that there is too much MACUSA regulation and control, but people are not hauled in for doing magic to help no-majs. What is important to the MACUSA is that we don’t reveal magic to the no-maj.”

“But they could be; every witch and wizard’s actions are tracked through the registry and examination of their wands,” said Jacob. “Don’t try just yet to come to any conclusion. Just review in your own mind what you know of how things work and what you know of your own history. If you can show me anything in the history of the MACUSA that would indicate a lessening of control, I want to know; I very much hope that I can be shown to be wrong; I just don’t see how I can be.”

“It’s fear, isn’t it?” she said after a long period of silence. “An unwarranted fear of the no-majs who never really had the power to harm us.”

Jacob nodded his agreement, “The actual harm done by the no-majs to witches and wizards in the past was primarily the result of collusion with some witch or wizard. We can’t correct all the wrongs, but the MACUSA is tracking you. We need to know how to avoid them. We need to know what they are actually doing.”

Queenie passed along to Bob, Jacob’s suggestion of portkeying to England for study with him and reducing her hours of work at the Wand Permit Office so she could do so while taking into account the five hour time difference between New York and England. Bob was agreeable and Queenie was able to obtain authorized portkeys for travel to and from England to visit her sister on a regular basis. Once she had portkey authorization, she had no real problem arranging to work a half day schedule. She only had to emphasize how alone she was now that her sister was in England and hint that this was more important to her than her job. She would begin tomorrow.

It was late that afternoon when she saw Ruggero Pantano rushing through the hall. She quickly used legilimency to enter his mind and follow along within him as he disappeared around a corner. She returned to her desk and without much thought continued her afternoon routine as she concentrated on Panty’s current thoughts.

He was excited. A witch was being held and for the first time he would observe the interrogation. He would record and report back to president Seraphina Picquery. Entering the interrogation room, his excitement changed to anger and resentment as a wizard charged with doing the interrogation accosted him.

Queenie was serene in her observation. Through Panty’s mind she listened to what he heard being said. “You’re late. Sit there and don’t speak.”

“I was sent by…” Panty attempted to say before he was abruptly shut down. “I know! That is why I waited. Now, shut-up, sit down, and observe the face of the enemy as you were instructed.”

Panty sat down, thinking: Maitland, you arrogant ass. You may be on top now, but I will get you—somehow I will get you. He nevertheless remained silent as he listened— as he glared at Maitland.

“Elizabeth Stanley Wohlfort, do you know why you are here?” Maitland asked.

“Where is my son?” she insisted. Panty focused his eyes on the woman and Queenie got a good look at the woman in his mind.

“Answer my question; do you know why you are here?” Maitland demanded.

“Where is my son?” she responded even more vehemently.

“Do not play games with me,” Maitland scolded harshly. “He is safe—they are all safe—for now. What happens to them depends on you and the answers you give.

“We know that you are married to the no-maj William Wohlfort. You have three children, George, Annie, and Calvin. George and Annie are presently at Ilvermorny; Calvin is in the next room in the care of Agrona Davis.”

“The obliviator!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Bring him to me now!”

“You do not make demands,” said Maitland.

Through Panty’s mind Queenie saw a wand on the table. Maitland held his own wand. She felt the tension in the room through the apprehension in Panty’s mind. Then the situation changed. Panty froze in fear as Elizabeth’s wand jumped into her hand and before Maitland could react, she had taken his wand, conjured ropes and bound him in place before she turned on Panty to do the same.

It was then that Queenie saw Agrona Davis with wand drawn, holding Calvin as a shield, stun and disarm Elizabeth. Panty’s fear clouded his mind, but Queenie was able to see Agrona free and revive Maitland before freeing Panty.

Maitland was visibly shaken by Elizabeth’s sudden attack. Panty could not believe that she had summoned her wand without using a wand.

Queenie waited. It was a full ten minutes before Maitland was able to proceed. He bound Elizabeth with ropes and revived her. She wondered why Maitland had seemed so apparently unable to act for so long.

As she saw the room through Panty’s mind she realized that there were no other aurors. Maitland was charged with the training of new aurors. This would be a perfect training opportunity. Why was Maitland doing this interrogation—Agrona, yes, this is what she would be part of, but why Maitland? He was a trainer.

A partially recovered Maitland continued with an apparent forced calm, “Your husband does design work for the no-majs in a company called Westinghouse, just south of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. You live in a brick house and your husband walks to work.”

“You seem to know an inordinate amount about us,” Elizabeth Wohlfort answered coldly. “You needn't go on. I know why I am here; I am here so you can take our children. You will remove my memory of my husband and my children's memory of their father and my husband’s memory of us. You are despicable.”

“Yes, we will; you have broken the law,” Maitland confirmed harshly, as much to verify for himself his own righteousness as to impress on Elizabeth his control over her. “The law must be upheld. You thought you would escape, but we found you out. You may have listed yourself as the widow of Alan Crenshaw who died four years ago in Scotland. You may have coached your children, but we found you out. We always find out.

“You have it in your power to save your children and yourself. You can do nothing for the no-maj. He will have his memory wiped regardless of what you decide, and the two of you will remain with us until it is done.”

There was silence. Panty looked from one to the other. Elizabeth Wohlfort seemed to straighten herself and sit more erect in the chair. “Your law is arbitrary,” she said calmly. “It is within your power to do what you will. What do you want from me?”

“You will tell your children that the no-maj was killed when a truck ran over him near his work. You will convince them of this! A Legilimens and healer will examine them to verify that they believe it and are not faking. They have been lying about their father being dead; now they can continue the same story only for them it will be real.

“You will make no effort to contact the no-maj. He will not know you in any case. You and your youngest will be removed to a secure residence for the time of your parole; you will be watched. Your two older children will continue at Ilvermorny. You will be brought here to be questioned weekly under veritas serum as to your activities and thoughts.”

“Are you going to replace Bill’s salary of $2017/year? Who will pay the tuition for my children? Are you going to toss us into the street and take my wand also?”

“You are in no position to bargain,” Maitland responded harshly. “You will be able to retrieve any savings that you may have. We might provide you with some work here if you are cooperative. You will be released and your wand returned to you when I have confirmation that William has been properly oblivated of all memories of you and your children, and that your children actually believe your story of their father’s death. Your wand will also be examined weekly.”

“You leave me little choice,” she said. Queenie could hear the contempt in her voice. “But I will never work for you; I will make my own way.”

“You have a choice,” said Maitland. “Your choice is whether you and your children will or will not retain a memory of the no-maj—whether you and your children will retain a memory of each other. Make your own way if you want, but you have no escape. We will be watching you and your children. We will be watching your use of magic.

“Agrona, leave the child with me. Go at once to the no-mag’s house and wait for him to return after work. This obliviation will take time. It must be thorough.”

Queenie grasped tightly the arm rests of her chair to physically restrain herself from running to the room where Elizabeth Wohlfort sat in hopeless despair trying to gather the strength to tell her children the lie and do so convincingly. She could disillusion herself and be on them before they knew what was happening, but no, it would not work. She could not apparate to them. She would not be fast enough. Elizabeth’s husband would be leaving work shortly. She could not get there before Agrona. She could not fight them all by herself. Elizabeth and her son were in no immediate danger. She needed to save Elizabeth’s husband first. She had time for Elizabeth. She felt as helpless as did Elizabeth when she saw Agrona hand Calvin to Maitland and leave the room. She felt the rage that she was sure Elizabeth Wohlfort felt. She did not know what to do—then she remembered the “notebook;” she knew what to do. Quickly she walked to the Entering Chamber and apparated home. Selecting a handsome middle-aged man she quickly stirred up the polyjuice potion and drank. Selecting an appropriate suit of clothing, she enlarged it, duplicated all pieces, shrunk back the original, and quickly dressed in the duplicates. She grabbed a large empty jar from her shelves and spelled it with a tap of her wand; she put it in a leather briefcase that she had enlarged.

Taking a moment to check on what was going on in Panty’s mind she apparated to 2000 feet above the city of Philadelphia Pennsylvania. As she fell she could see several factories just South of the city. She apparated to the front gates of one of the factories and asked someone leaving where the Westinghouse factory was. With that she apparated again to the entrance gate to the Westinghouse plant. The gate attendant would not allow her to pass, saying it was dangerous for her to wander about.

“Is there someone who can escort me?” she asked looking around for someone who might help her.

“What about him?” she asked, pointing to a man in some kind of uniform walking toward them. Not waiting for an answer she approached the man while reaching for her wand in her left coat sleeve. With a polite manner and a little help from the imperious curse, she convinced him to take her to see William Wohlfort.

When she was at last standing before William, she asked, “Are you William Wohlfort, the husband of Elizabeth?”

“I am,” he replied. “And who sir are you?”

“Who I am is not important,” replied Queenie. “What is important is that your wife and Calvin are presently being held in interrogation rooms by the MACUSA. George and Annie are at Ilvermorny. You understand what I refer to when I say MACUSA?”

The expression of shock on William’s face told her that he did.

“We need a place where we can talk and not be heard or observed.”

He nodded and led her to the men’s restroom.

Verifying for herself that they were alone, she took out her wand and fixed the door shut. She checked back on what was going on in Panty’s mind and saw that Elizabeth and Calvin had been taken to Ilvermorny where she would tell her children that their father had been killed. It was disgusting to see the satisfaction Panty felt at Elizabeth’s distress. She must have spent too much time watching because William asked if anything was wrong.

“Everything about what is happening to you and your family is wrong,” she said. “But no. Your wife was given the option of telling your children that you were killed or having their memories of you and her obliviated.”

“What? I need to go there right now.” he exclaimed.

“You must not!” she said. “Going there would only put you into their hands sooner and alert them that there is someone who knows what they are doing and is prepared to oppose them. Even now Agrona Davis is gathering more obliviators to come here to remove your memory of your family. Take comfort in knowing that your wife is at this moment at Ilvermorny to tell your children the lie about your death.”

“Are you a Legilimens?” William asked. “Lizzy has told me about them.”

“Yes, at this moment I am in the mind of one of those who observed her interrogation and has accompanied her to Ilvermorny.”

“What do you intend?” he asked.

“Do you know what a pensieve is?” asked Queenie.

“Yes, it’s something in which memories can be stored.”

“Very good,” said Queenie. “Agrona Davis will bring other Obliviators to remove all memory you have of your wife and children. I cannot stop this. Even though I could remove you to a safe location, it would only create a danger for your wife and children when they realized that you were not where you should be, and they would eventually find you. Living on the run is no way to live.”

Taking the jar out of the briefcase, Queenie explained, “I will copy your memories into this pensieve. The Obliviators will come soon to remove your memories. Sometime in the future, I will find you and restore your memories. But I cannot do it until I am sure that you are no longer watched. I am not certain of the procedures used to verify their obliviation of you, but I am sure that they will want to know that what they did worked. I must also figure out how to get you and your family to safety.”

“I see,” William said with an air of resolve. “You were not prepared. You are working this out on the run. All right then, do it.”

Queenie put her wand to Williams head and began to syphon his memories into the hastily created pensieve. When she had finished she put the jar back in her briefcase and went deep into Panty’s mind to see what was happening before she left his mind. He had entered Ilvermorny with Elizabeth, Calvin, and a healer. Maitland was not with them. Panty was her escort from the MACUSA. They did not want the Headmaster to suspect the real story.

“We should go now,” she said. “You should go to your desk and I will return to keep and eye on developments.”

As he turned to leave, Queenie unlocked the restroom door and entering Williams mind quickly located his images of his children before she obliviated only those memories of their meeting. She apparated to her apartment, and before she placed the pensieve in her cabinet, she tied a black ribbon around its neck in mourning should she fail.

With still ten minutes left on the polyjuice potion, she disappeared the clothing she had worn and lay down to wait. She very much wanted Jacob. She smiled, well maybe not looking like this.

Back at her desk she waited hoping to catch a glimpse of Panty or Maitland. She could not linger outside the interrogation room. She could only hope that they would come her way. It was late; Jacob would be wondering what had happened; she waited, finishing some of the filing work her trip to Pennsylvania had caused to pile up on her desk. She still had not seen them when her supervisor, Mr. Abernathy, noticed that she was still at her desk.

“I thought that you would be off, eager for tomorrow when you will begin visiting your sister,” he said.

“I had to step out for a moment, Mr. Abernathy,” she said casually. “I didn’t want to leave a pile of work for tomorrow. You have been so gracious in letting me work half days, I felt bad about cutting things short today.” It was then that she saw Maitland—the face of the enemy—walking rapidly to the elevators. She quickly entered his mind and relaxed as he left the floor.

“You have always been one of my best girls,” Mr. Abernathy said. “I appreciate your dedication. Don’t work too late.”

Maitland was gone, but it didn’t matter. She was deep in his mind. He was thinking about the interrogation of Elizabeth Wohlfort. She worked her way past the contempt and loathing he felt for her and his attempt to suppress the fear at having been overcome by a wand-less witch. She was looking for something specific. She found it—the location of where Elizabeth and Calvin would reside during her parole. Ahh, a parole of three months would coincide with the end of the school year. That gave her a time frame within which to work. But what could she do in three months. She needed a sanctuary for them and she was not sure England would serve as such if they fled and the MACUSA made a request of the British Ministry of Magic to send them back. They were sure to be discovered if William pursued his work in steam turbine design. Safety was the easiest part of it. Anyone can hide out, but how would they be able to rebuild their lives? As she went deeper, she saw his resentment that the Headmaster at Ilvermorny would not assist in tracking the no-mag parents of the students. She was ready to leave Maitland’s mind and go to Jacob. She had gotten Maitland’s daily routine and the fact that Agrona Davis would manage a team of obliviators who would physically watch Elizabeth’s movements. More importantly she learned that Maitland would obliviate Elizabeth’s memory of her husband and their children’s memory of their father. The lie he told her was only to get her to cooperate until he could get his hands on her children when they were no longer protected at Ilvermorny.

She was about to leave when she picked up a thought. “This is one pack of miscegenators who will not pollute the wizarding community. The gaul of her thinking she could get us to pay her.” But his thoughts didn’t stop there. It was as if that thought triggered a cascade of others. His thoughts continued to the time when the obliviators failed and failed spectacularly. Somehow Alexandros Metaxas had learned the MACUSA was going to pick up his wife for obliviation. He arrived sometime while the obliviators were with his wife. He obliviated all in total. Three having to start over again with no memory. No more knowledgeable than a one or two year old. No one is certain what happened. He and his family disappeared. Did they or did they not obliviate his wife? Aurors have been authorized to kill if capture was not possible. We will find him! She felt him shutter in fear and quickly try to think of something else. He had been scheduled to be among those obliviators. He did not like the idea that Metaxas was loose somewhere in the world.

Queenie left his mind, went to the Entering Chamber, and apparated to her apartment. So that is why Maitland was so terrified at Elizabeth’s unexpected attack. No wonder my owl to Athene went undelivered, she thought.

Chapter 7: Chapter VII - A Selfish War
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter VII
A Selfish War

Again with Jacob, Queenie eagerly helped him clean up from the day and prepare for the next days business. The work was so refreshing; after what she had seen that afternoon, it felt cleansing, as if she had crawled out of a sewer and taken a long hot shower.

When they were finally alone with time for only themselves, Queenie apparated with Jacob to her apartment. She told him everything, not just the events and what she had discovered about her old school friend. She told him about her intense anger and hatred, and her desire to kill Maitland and Panty and even president Seraphina Picquery for authorizing it.

Jacob held her tightly whispering to her, “Killing is an ugly undertaking. The Avada Kedavra curse makes it seem neat and clean. There is no way to clean up killing when blood flows out over your hand and the knife you had just thrust into a man’s heart. I think that you have stayed away for too long; look deep into my memories of the war; see what I saw—what I did.”

Neither measured the time. It was Jacob who spoke when he felt her shutter. “You should feel proud of your every action and thought. Do not fear anger and hatred. They are valid emotions that alerted you to the extreme injustice you witnessed. You proved yourself by considering the facts of the situation to come to a solution and not let your emotions of anger and hatred drive your actions. You quickly assessed what was needed—what was possible—and you acted. Or, as Bob Holden might say, you innovated. You let your morality, not your anger and hatred, be your guide.”

She drank in his words as if they were a tonic that both calmed and soothed her, while also exciting her with desire. It would be some time before they sat to talk about what had happened.

Sitting close on the sofa, Queenie leaned into Jacob, holding his hands as he encircled her with his arms.

“You have seen the ugliness and evil that is possible for man,” he said. “Now we should talk about what we know, what we have, and what we should do.”

“I know that I have you and I have a good idea what we can do,” Queenie said as she pushed herself a little more tightly against him.

“You might be insatiable beloved, but I will need some rest to bring myself up to best performance level,” Jacob said, squeezing her just a bit more. “You must accommodate me in this, if only for your own sake.”

“Accommodate, yes. I will wait a little bit, but now that you are no longer my intended, you must not keep me waiting for too long. Just how much rest do you need?”

“Oh, I think you will know that I will be ready after an hour or so of talking—given the way you are sitting against me.”

“Then you begin,” she said. “I will just sit here and wait for you to get ready.”

“As you wish, my beloved,” he said. “You know what kind of life you will build for yourself, we should get down to discussing specifics. Or, should I just think about it and you can interrupt when you want me to know something or lead me in a different direction?”

“I think we should just talk,” she said. “I don’t have to be in your mind to know what you think—you will tell me; I want you to tell me.

“What do you mean when you say that now I know? I have always known that I want to build my life with you.”

“With me—yes,” he said. “But now you know that you will pursue wand making—and you know that you will begin to reveal the nature of what the MACUSA keeps hidden as a first step to revealing the fear that motivates them.”

“What? I wasn’t thinking about taking on the MACUSA in some kind of a crusade.”

“Not yet,” he said. “But you soon will be. You have done what you could to preserve William Wohlfort. You will soon act to rescue all the Wohlforts. You are the one who will have to do this. I doubt that I can be of much assistance. Just tell me everything you plan—I may be able to suggest something.

“Opening yourself up to me and then to Bob Holden has caused you to relive the emotions of loathing you felt at first learning of the oppressive harshness of the MACUSA. This latest event with the Wohlforts has only reinforced the validity of those emotions. Without knowing he was doing it, Bob Holden pushed you toward it by so praising your character. You are that person he saw. Your actions today prove it. You’ve already begun. You cannot walk away, knowing what you do.

”You are about to embark on a selfish war—not a ‘Just War’, a selfish war. There is a concept of a ‘Just War’ that goes back thousands of years. It is what the politicians speak of when they advocate for war. Essentially it says that for a war to be just it must be fought for the benefit of someone other than yourself. This will be a war for us—for our benefit and the benefit of our children. It will be a defensive war. It will be a selfish war. If others can benefit, as your action today show, that is good, but we will engage for our own benefit—our own future.

“William and Elizabeth chose to resist in a specific way. They selfishly fought their own defensive war. Their success was partial. The enemy defeated them. We must discover how to totally defeat this enemy. It is the government of wizards that has initiated war against us. We will defend our lives and our right to that life, as we build our lives.”

“Yes—yes. Are you a Legilimens?” she questioned whimsically as she held tight to his arms encircling her.

“Oh, I wish I were.”

Together they sat in a sensual embrace, not cognizant of time or anything outside the physical presence of each other.

“I suppose we should actually begin talking,” she said with a sigh of resignation.

“As you wish, beloved,” he replied inhaling deeply of the fragrance of her hair. “The first thing we need to determine is what exactly do we want to achieve before figuring out how to do it.”

“First, I want to restore the Wohlforts’ life, but what I really want is to see the ban on mag/no-maj marriages ended.”

“Agreed. Can it be done in time for our children?”

Queenie leaned her head back on Jacob’s shoulder.

“No,” she said as she lay still in his arms. “Others have been trying to convince the MACUSA to abolish these bans for years.”

“Then we must consider first what to do to protect our children,” he said as he spoke softly into her ear. “It would be easy if I were the wizard and you were the no-maj. Then, we could do as Bob and Hannah did. But, with you working for the MACUSA, the danger of discovery becomes greater. This is the problem that William and Elizabeth solved for a time by her staying away from the magical community—still they were found out, and a pregnant Queenie is sure to be noticed in your department—people will become curious. I assume that unmarried pregnant witches are not common.”

“No, not common—and not looked upon approvingly,” she replied in an obvious understatement. “Sure to bring the attention of the curious.”

“Then our primary objective is not only protecting our children from being harmed by statute enforcers, but to see that they are well educated and well adjusted to the fact of being witch or wizard,” he said.

“And if our child is no-maj?”

“We must ensure that he is well educated in the science and history of no-majs as well as that of the magical world,” he reassured. “We should do that with all our children, regardless of their magical ability or lack thereof. They will have a foot in both worlds. Remember what Bob said about man evolving to become magical beings.”

“I am uncertain about what we can do,” she said. “I can’t seem to think of anything beyond what Bob and Hannah are doing. Maybe William and Elizabeth can help, even though they failed in the long run. We can speak to Tina and Newt about whether England can provide a sanctuary if they are being hunted by the MACUSA.”

“That is why our first step must be the gathering of information,” he said. “Even knowledge of why William and Elizabeth failed will help. We don’t really know the forces arrayed against us. Before we can do battle, we must know the strength and inclination of the enemy—and their methods.

“We must know how the MACUSA becomes aware of a mixed marriage. You know how far they are willing to go. You know that they will continuously escalate their efforts when they encounter resistance. Their willingness to hunt down and kill Alexandros Metaxas tells you that. We must not reveal intentions—our ourselves—even in the slightest manner, before we are ready. We must not create a circumstance that will necessitate acting and revealing to the MACUSA that they have a new and determined enemy and not just people who are trying to escape.”

“A circumstance such as a pregnant Queenie?” she offered.

He held her a little more tightly. “Yes, a pregnant-less Queenie until we are certain of what to do,” he said. “Is there something you can do to ensure such?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Romantic love was one of the special topics at Ilvermorny.”

“Tell me more,” said Jacob, smiling. “I was never instructed in love. I had to pick it up on my own.”

“It’s not like that,” said Queenie. Seeing his thoughts, she laughed as she nibbled his ear. “It was very serious—very principled. We were young, the spring of our third year. We were all beginning to take an interest in boys—and they in us.

“There are three aspects to romantic love—admiration, desire, and commitment. Admiration and desire are easy enough to understand. You see someone you like and you want him to be a part of your life. You want him to see you as you see him.”

“And the commitment?”

“Commitment is unique to us,” said Queenie.


“Our teachers did imply that they were only speaking about witches and wizards,” she said. “But there was nothing magical about our instruction.—Now that I think about it, after our teachers had introduced us to the theory of love, the visiting MACUSA instructors would remind us that the ban on mag/no-mag contact applied even more so to romantic relationships with the no-mags. They would even say that any such romantic relationship could only end tragically. They definitely didn’t want us to consider the possibility of a loving relationship with a no-maj.”

“So, they used a young girl’s, a young boy’s interest in love to act as a vehicle to impress upon you the evil of no-maj relationships,” commented Jacob, thoughtfully. “You said visiting, did they come often to lecture you on the government’s official position?”

“A few times every year, for an hour or so,” said Queenie.

“Hmm; and the commitment?” asked Jacob, returning to his real interest.

“Each accommodates his own wishes and desires; his hopes, dreams, and ambitions to those of the other,” Queenie said.

“As in a trade?” asked Jacob.

“No, it may look like a trade to someone else,” she said. “But our teachers were most emphatic that accommodation was not a trade, could not be a trade—not if love was to survive. You cannot bargain with your lover for something you want. You might get it, you might not. Not getting what you are bargaining for, leads to disappointment, frustration, anger. Getting what you want leads to your thinking that you are better than him—that he is less than you. You already have his love. You are trying to cultivate that love, to draw what you desire—your lover—closer. Anger or a sense of superiority prevents the two of you from cultivating a love with each other.

“It is not a matter of giving up something to get something else in return. Neither gives up something he values less to get something he values more, and neither sacrifices his own desires to those of the other. Each continues to pursue his own ambitions, what he desire for himself. You just accommodate your desires to fit with those of the one you love as he does with his own desires. In this way the two of you cultivate your love over time.”

“So it is neither the sexual love nor the self-sacrificial platonic love of poets,” said Jacob.

“Not self-sacrificial platonic love, but sex is a vital part of romantic love,” she said, shifting as she tried to snuggle a little closer, as if that was possible.

“I am very glad to hear that,” said Jacob.

“Sex is the physical, concrete celebration of love,” she continued. “That is its great joy and its great danger.”

“Great danger?” questioned Jacob. “Oh, I guess there is the possibility of disease or unwanted pregnancy; these can be dealt with, but I think you mean something else.”

“Yes, disease and pregnancy can be dealt with,” she said. “The real danger from indulging in a premature sexual adventure is that you will think yourself in love—think yourself loved—simply because you have celebrated love. It is important to the couple’s future happiness to begin cultivating love; to begin accommodating each other before celebrating. The danger is that you will marry and even have children before realizing that you do not love each other, that you cannot accommodate each other. You just enjoyed the celebration and in doing so created an illusion of love.”

“And the breakdown of the illusion of love results in an incomprehensible disappointment and anger at having lost what you never had,” said Jacob.

“You know; I knew you would understand,” said Queenie.

“Yes, I think so,” said Jacob. “I am so glad to have you instructing me in love.”

“And by avoiding premature sexual adventures, a woman or even a man can make a good first guess as to whether proclamations of love are sincere or not,” said Queenie.

Jacob seemed puzzled, “How’s that?”

“If the man professing his love for you is unwilling to wait, unwilling to accommodate your wish to wait and continues to press you for a sexual adventure, you can be reasonably certain that he wants only the sex and is not ready for commitment regardless of his words,” Queenie replied.

“I see why you wanted to wait,” said Jacob. “We were moving so very fast.”

“That is the way of the Legilimens,” said Queenie. “I knew in the few days before your memories were obliviated, but you needed to know also—you needed to be as certain as I.”

“And the man?” asked Jacob. “Can he also be reasonably certain that the woman only wants sex?”

“I suppose so,” said Queenie. “Although, I suspect that the woman might more often seek the illusion of love through a sexual adventure. Of course, she also might want only the adventure and the man may want the illusion of love.”

“And, all this from a high school class in love. I have never heard love described so clearly,” said Jacob kissing Queenie lightly on her ear. “Everything you said seems right; I see nothing in my own experience to contradict anything you have said.

“It would seem that Bob Holden may have been somewhat mistaken. Innovation may be a part of the magical world—even though the authorities seek to use it to maintain their command.

“Do you think that marriages in the magical community are more successful than those in the non-magical community?”

“That could be, but I wouldn’t know how to discover it,” said Queenie. “We certainly get off to a better start, knowing this, but I don’t know; when a man and woman think they are in love, they want to be in love—they want it to work. I’m sure that many figure out how to accommodate each other's desires and cultivate their love.”

“I see, still I am glad you have told me,” said Jacob. “I am glad that you have thought so intently about love. But on to a more immediate concern now that we have taken care of what we must do to cultivate our love. Is there something that you can do to forestall a pregnant Queenie—at least for the immediate future?”

“Yes, there is something I can do—something I have done,” she said, smiling. “All young witches are taught how to prevent pregnancy as soon as they are capable of doing so without harming themselves. But while I will delay getting pregnant, I see no reason to postpone the reenactment of our wedding celebration, especially since you seem to be fully rested and restored.”

“No, none at all,” responded Jacob, picking up on her meaning. “Since everyone we wished to have at the celebration is already here—just as they were earlier.”

Newt and Tina were preparing to leave when her message portkey box began to vibrate. She opened it and read the message, handing it to Newt. It was composed of a single word—Consummated!

After Jacob and Queenie were awaken by her bouncing Pukwudgie, after a very pleasant shower together, as Queenie was about to apparate them both to Jacob’s apartment, he asked, “If you will be able to restore William’s memory from the pensieve, could you make a pensieve to contain the memories you took from me before we met again?”

Queenie was at her desk in the Wand Permit Office before everyone else. Jacob always began his day earlier than she did. She helped him setup for the day and apparated to the Entering Chamber, all the time thinking of Jacob’s request. She could do it, but she would have to be cautious. She and Jacob would take a simple memory, such as him seeing a pencil on a desk. She would take that memory from him, obliviate his memory of the pencil, put her memory of his memory into the pensieve, and then try to restore it to Jacob. Then she would be certain it would work for his old memories before she sought him out to renew their budding romance.

Queenie saw Zelos pushing a cart of files. She waved to him and he came over. “Mr. Zelos, are you always here this early?”

“Always early,” replied Zelos.

“I brought pastries today,” She said as she reached into her desk. “I saved one for you. Would you like me to order you to take it?”

Zelos smiled. “Always better you do.”

“Take this pastry for your own pleasure,” she said handing him the pastry.

It was then that she had an idea. “Mr. Zelos, if I asked you to do something and not tell anyone what I asked or that I asked, could you do it without feeling bad and having to punish yourself?”

“Zelos can,” the elf replied. “Zelos need something to answer.”

“I see,” said Queenie. “We can always talk about pastries. Then you can say that we talked about pastries and that I always save a pastry for you and order you to take it so that you will not suffer.”

“Mistress Queenie Goldstein think like elf,” replied Zelos smiling.

“Why, thank you Mr. Zelos. That is a great compliment. I would like you to secretly get me every file you can on the witch Elizabeth Stanley, or Elizabeth Wohlfort her married name—and her no-mag husband William Wohlfort. I would also like you to secretly get me every file you can on the witch Athene Metaxas and her father, the wizard Alexandros Metaxas. And, this is important; I only want you to do this if you can do it without risk to yourself, risk of discovery. These files may be secured in some way. If you can’t do it, just tell me. It will be all right. I want no harm to come your way.”

“Zelos knows; Zelos does tomorrow; Zelos make copy before witches and wizards arrive,” Zelos said before walking off to his cart, breaking the pastry in half, eating half and saving half for later.

Chapter 8: Chapter VIII - First Tracks of an Underground Railroad Laid
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter VIII
First Tracks of an Underground Railroad Laid

Tina Goldstein had thought she might sleep late this Sunday morning, but no, someone was banging on the door. She alerted Newt that they were about to have guests, threw on her house coat and went to answer the front door.

“Good morning Tina,” said her sister, before walking past her into the living room. “I thought that since you and Newt were going to Diagon Alley that we would tag along—give Jacob a chance to see something of the wizarding world without the anxiety that would accompany a trip to the concourse beneath the MACUSA.”

Tina, not quite recovered from the shock of seeing Queenie and Jacob at first light, said, “Well Jacob, I guess you should come in also. Why didn’t you message me? I would have had breakfast for you.”

“I will make breakfast for us,” said Queenie. “We have brought everything, eggs, coffee, sausage, potatoes, bread—and pastries. I wanted to surprise you.

“You and Newt weren’t planing a lie-in this morning?”

Tina blushed slightly as she went to tell Newt what to expect. “I think that you already know the answer to that.”

“Jacob, would you like to help?” asked Queenie smiling at her sister.

“Yes, but I like to watch you cook,” answered Jacob, kissing Queenie. “I will just stay out of your way and enjoy the view.”

They told Tina and Newt about the Wohlforts as they ate.

“I know you Queenie,” said Tina. “You are going to do something.”

“I already have,” she said. “I have saved William Wohlfort’s memories in a pensieve; I will restore them when we have figured out how to reunite them and safeguard them from the MACUSA.”

“Are you sure you can restore his memories?” asked Tina.

“I wasn’t at first,” Queenie said. “I was grasping at straws. I had never even thought of doing it before then. And when I told Jacob what I had done—what I planned to do—he asked if I could restore his memories that I had taken before they were obliviated by Newt’s rain.”

“It worked?” asked Newt.

“Yes,” replied Jacob. “It’s nice to meet the two of you again.”

“So I am confident I can restore William’s Memory,” said Queenie. “For now, we are considering moving them to England to get them out of the hands of the MACUSA.”

“That may not work,” suggested Newt. “The Ministry of Magic here may assist in finding and returning them if the MACUSA requests.”

“Yes, we need to get them here without the MACUSA realizing that they have left,” said Queenie.

“How can you do that?” asked Tina. “They can’t just disappear; as soon as they are gone, those who are watching them will immediately suspect something. They will look here.”

“That’s the problem,” said Queenie. “We need to do it such that the MACUSA will not look for them, nor suspect them of reuniting—and not suspect that it is possible to restore the memories. But that is not the most urgent problem. Elizabeth harbors an intense hatred for the MACUSA and a personal hatred for Maitland. She is adamant about not working for the MACUSA or accepting any assistance from them. Now that she no longer has William’s income, Elizabeth will need an income of her own that will allow her to not only live but also pay the Ilvermorny tuition for her two oldest. Her savings will not last for long.”

“She can take in washing,” said Jacob.

“What! Like a house elf?” exclaimed Queenie. She could not believe that he had suggested it.

“No, not like a house elf, beloved,” he replied, gently taking Queenie’s hand. “Look inside.”

“I see,” said Queenie. “Like a soldier behind enemy lines doing what he must to escape. You tell them.”

“It occurs to me that Elizabeth’s anger and hatred of Maitland and others is her protection,” said Jacob. “Maitland will expect her hatred given what he has done. The real problem is how to unite them. Elizabeth must be a competent witch. After all, she evaded the MACUSA for at least 13 years while she gave birth to three children, before she did something that alerted Maitland. She was even able to get the better of Maitland and Panty before Agrona Davis came to their rescue using Elizabeth’s son as a shield.

“If she takes in laundry, she can clean it, mark it for identification, duplicate it, and return the duplicate to the owner while she keeps the clean, pressed clothes for when her customer returns with the duplicate for cleaning. She can even shrink the original for storage in an envelope. Her advantage will come with the second cleaning. She will only have to disappear the dirty duplicate clothing and create new duplicates from her inventory of originals. She will be able to service many more customers, faster at a lower price than they could get elsewhere.

“If she does not know how to do this, Queenie can show her and then obliviate her memory of their meeting while leaving the memory of the method.

“However, I can think of no way to unite them other than to bring them here where they can have some degree of safety.”

“Her escape will have to be done secretly,” said Tina. “They will all have to have new names. We will have to involve Hogwarts to accept the children under false names.”

“And, the Ministry,” added Newt. “This is getting very complicated.”

“I think that Elizabeth’s anger and hatred will provide reason enough for her to openly emigrate with her children under her own name,” said Jacob. “That way the MACUSA will have no reason to pursue her. All that we have to do is figure out how to prevent Maitland from thinking that she might be trying to reunite with her husband. I don’t have an answer to that yet.”

“But,” said Jacob, interrupting himself. “We don’t have to figure it out now. Queenie and I can spend some quality time roaming through the corridors of my mind tonight; maybe we will come up with something. Right now, I think that we are both very eager to see this Diagon Alley we’ve heard so much about. My beloved witch has, over the past few days, been preparing and augmenting a list of potion ingredients she would like to purchase. And, I am very eager to see your wizarding world without the danger of obliviation—still, we don’t have to advertise that I am not a wizard.

“So, how will we travel?”

“Tina and I always apparate to the Gringotts annex. I’ll take Jacob; Tina can take Queenie. We will need to exchange your dollars for galleons.”

Jacob just smiled. Once again he was in for a ride, although he would have preferred to ride with his Queenie.

Stepping out of the Gringotts annex, Jacob whispered to Queenie, “Portkey.”

Jacob found Gringotts fascinating but not shocking. He remembered the goblin Gnarlak from their experience at the Blind Pig. Remembering punching Gnarlak in the nose still gave him a twinge of pleasure. It was this he was thinking as he took a hefty purse of galleons from the goblin bank teller. “Here Queenie, you take these. You’re the one who will do the buying.”

Upon entering the Apothecary for potion supplies, Queenie walked over to an old wizard who was taking an order from a rather portly middle-aged witch. Upon seeing her, the old wizard turned to call into the back room, “Horace, come out and see to this young lady while I fill Miss Smith’s order.”

“Coming, Mr. Jiggers,” said a voice from the backroom.

Queenie was taken aback when Horace emerged from behind a curtain. With his plump face, he looked very much like Jacob had before he lost weight.

Addressing Queenie, he said, “Horace Slughorn here; I see you have a list; may I see?”

Horace quickly read down the alphabetical list. “Ahh, Draught of Living Death, Wiggenweld solution, a good choice if you will be playing around with the Draught of Living Death.”

“Excuse me,” said Queenie. “I don’t play with potions.”

Horace looked up at her curiously but continued naming potions that could be made from the ingredients in her list. “Veritas Serum, Polyjuice potion—lots of Polyjuice potion. Come with me. I will retrieve; you can measure. It will go faster and you can tell me something about your potion work. We never get orders as extensive as yours unless it’s from Hogwarts.”

It was over half an hour before Queenie and Horace returned.

“Talk it over with your fiancé Queenie Goldstein and let me know one way or the other,” said Horace. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again and working with you.”

“Goodbye Horace. I will let you know by owl before we leave tonight,” said Queenie.

Outside, Tina quickly asked, “OK Queenie, what was that all about?”

Jacob took the leather potions satchel from Queenie as she explained, “Horace has just begun working here as a potions mixer. He said that his great grandfather originally owned the shop, but when he realized that both his son and his grandson were not interested in the business. He hired Mr. Jiggers when he was a young man. When he made Mr. Jiggers a partner, he renamed it Slug and Jiggers. Slug was what everyone called Horace’s great grandfather.

“Horace intends to become a professor at Hogwarts when he has enough practical experience under his belt. He was adamant that book knowledge was not enough, and I agreed with him. He knows what he wants. He was very confident. He did not speak in terms of applying for a job there; he spoke about being a professor. And, from our conversation, I think that he will.”

“OK, OK,” said Tina, “But what’s this about you working with him?”

“Oh that,” teased Queenie. “He said that it is hard to find truly competent mixers. They can’t be just good enough. They have to be perfect every time otherwise they can cause serious problems. He is always looking for talent and he said that he would recommend me to Mr. Jiggers. I told him that I would like to, but I would not be moving here any time soon. Still, he thinks that they can work out something.

“What do you think Jacob?”

“Well, let’s see. With a five hour time difference, you could leave at noon…“

Queenie kissed Jacob on the cheek and ran back into the Apothecary.

“…work potions from 5:00pm to 7:00pm. That would give Bob Holden time to have diner with his wife. You could join Bob for an hour or so and be home by 4:00pm our time. Plenty of time for you to whip up a new batch of wood for me and still be rested for when I have finished preparing for the next morning,” Jacob continued as if she was still there. “We will have to make an early night of it though, as I must also get up early. We will still have plenty of time to play. And there is always Saturday and Sunday. I can leave Andrew in charge. I’ve found him very reliable. Hmm, maybe I should hire someone to assist Andrew and let Andrew finish off the morning baking. He is eager to do more of the baking. He wants to learn my recipes. That way we would have even more time to play.”

“What’s Queenie up to now?” asked Tina.

“Oh, probably just telling Horace that she will see him tomorrow at 5:00pm. No reason to waste money on an owl. I wonder if she will be paid.”

“Yes, we must have time to play,” said Queenie returning. “I will do it as Jacob said. Horace and Mr. Jiggers are fine with this and after a week, if they want me to continue, I will receive one galleon an hour. But I know that Mr. Jiggers is willing to go up to two galleons.”

“That’s very good,” said Jacob. “Ford is paying a wage of $5 a day for 8 hours. A galleon is about the size of a $10 gold eagle. But, when you ask for a raise, ask for only 15 sickles more. Mr. Jiggers will think he is getting a bargain and you will secure your place at the apothecary should we have to come here permanently. You can always ask for another galleon later when Mr. Jiggers knows how good you are.”

“And what will you do if you come here permanently?” asked Newt.

“Oh, I can do anything,” said Jacob. “I can set up shop here or I can continue in New York and portkey from here and back. It all depends on what we must do to keep our children free from the danger the MACUSA presents.”

Tina turned to Queenie and was about to ask when Queenie answered, “No, I’m not pregnant. We must be certain before.”

“You do know that you will need authorization to get such a portkey,” said Newt.

“Oh, Queenie can take care of that,” said Jacob, unconcerned. “What your Ministry doesn’t know won’t hurt us. Enrico is still insistent on making watches for me and Queenie. He knows what I want—a wrist watch placed inside a somewhat larger outer case. This will allow room for six portkey buttons in the outer case without involving the watch mechanism. Queenie will supply the buttons. I also got him to promise to let me pay for all of the parts he needs to make the watches.

“Queenie tells me that making the portkey is easy enough. The difficult part is setting it up so that one of the portkeys will take you back to where you portkeyed from. For the time being, we can use the portkeys that the MACUSA has provided.”

Tina took Queenie by the arm. “Wait a minute. Is it really possible to create a bounce back portkey?”

“Yes,” said Jacob. “Let’s get some hot cocoa and Queenie will explain.”

Back in Jacob’s apartment above his shop, Queenie waited while Jacob checked on Andrew.

“Jacob, about Elizabeth taking in washing,” commented Queenie when he had returned. “She does not have very much time to set up a shop. She needs to be up and running soon. I was thinking that she could make an arrangement with a number of managers of high end apartment buildings or hotels. She could find out how much they charge for laundry service and offer her own services for considerably less.”

“That’s excellent,” said Jacob. “She would gain all the customers she needed all at once. And, if there were too few, she could offer laundry services to other hotels. She might even be able to offer to clean the hotel’s linens.

“You have a real head for business. We make a good team.”

“We do, we do indeed,” Queenie whispered and blowing lightly in his ear, said, “It is time for me to be off. We will play later.”

“Yes, come back soon.”

It was a warm Sunday this March 13. Elizabeth had taken Calvin to the park to play by the pond. She kept a close eye on him as he chased ducks near the water’s edge, ready to pull him to her if he got into trouble. He was three and had not yet displayed any magical abilities. She hoped that he would. She was depressed; she was angry. Maitland had taken his father. He was too young to take it in. George and Annie were horribly distraught. She hated Maitland for making her lie to them; she hated him for what he was doing to them. At least George and Annie were safe at school. The Headmaster would not let Maitland have access to them. She and Calvin had visited only yesterday. She had confided in the Headmaster, telling him the truth of the matter and implored him to protect her children from Maitland. She was sure that Maitland would obliviate their memories of their father as soon as he could gain secure access to them. The Headmaster had confirmed her suspicions of what the MACUSA would do. He said that he had known for some time that she was married to a no-mag. He also told her that some years ago Maitland had done exactly what she suspected he might. A mother had told her child about his father’s death, but when that child returned after the summer break, he had no memory of his father. He only knew that his father had died when he was very young. She could not shake herself out of the despair she felt. She felt her hatred of Maitland surge in her mind as she watched the old street vendor selling bags of hot peanuts to a young couple strolling through the park. She wanted to buy a bag for Calvin, but she had no money for such things. And then, the peanut vendor was standing before her.

“Hot peanuts for you and your son?” said the vendor.

Elizabeth was about to say that she could not, not today, when she noticed the vendor ease a stick partly out of his coat sleeve. Before she could react, the vendor whispered, “Muffliato.”

“Now, we can speak,” said the vendor who spelled the bag of peanuts to heat them. “First things first. Maitland is almost certainly having your movements tracked. He is also having you observed as you move about; I noticed Agrona Davis watching you as I entered the park—don’t look. You should assume that you are always being watched unless you are at Ilvermorny.

“If you find evidence of a tracking potion or other tracking devices, don’t try to interfere with them; Maitland will only find another means to track you. Let him think that he is more clever than you; that you are easy to watch.

“Now down to business. Can you duplicate clothing?”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She only nodded that she could.

“You are in need of money. My wife used to take in washing. You should take in washing, clean the clothing, mark it for identification, duplicate the cleaned article, shrink the original, and slip it into a marked envelope for safe keeping. Return the duplicate to the customer and when he brings it again, simply disappear the duplicate and make a new duplicate from the original.”

“I have always tried to minimize my wand work lest my marriage be discovered,” said Elizabeth. “After Calvin was born, Bill got me an electric washing machine so that I wouldn’t have to use cleaning spells.”

“You were careful,” said the vendor. “That is probably why you were able to go undetected for so long. But you have been discovered, so there is no need to hide. Now anything that you need, except food, you can duplicate, not just clothing but paper, candles, oil, oil lamps—even lightbulbs if you have electricity.

“Look at the advertising on your peanut bag; it is for a residence hotel near where you are living now. Tomorrow, visit the manager and propose that you do laundry for the residents. He will be receptive to your request. I will arrange it when I leave you.

“Now, pay me with a dime. I will give you change which will include two $5 half eagles. Just put them in your purse without looking at them.”

Elizabeth did and the vendor made change—one nickel, one penny, and two gold half eagles in place of two pennies.

“One last thing,” said the vendor. “Do not let down your guard; do not let down your anger—your hatred of Maitland; he is an evil man. Your outward display of anger and hatred is your protection. He will suspect trickery on your part if you don’t. You cannot get on his good side. He has no good side.”


“Done,” replied Queenie. “Elizabeth has what she needs. She will remember my peanut vendor saying that his wife used to take in washing and all her thoughts about duplicating but have no memory of the vendor as a wizard. She will assume that she is being watched and tracked, but have no memory of how she came to these thoughts. I also found and removed the memory of her having spoken to Headmaster Lewis at Ilvermorny but left the feelings that George and Annie were safe in the school. I will coach her about this later.

”And we still have some time to play before you must prepare for tomorrow.”

Chapter 9: Chapter IX - The First Station Stop
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter IX
The First Station Stop

Queenie was at her desk two hours before the other clerks would arrive. She was hoping that Mr. Zelos would show up today. He was not at work yesterday, a pastry day. It was not like him to miss a pastry day. It was not like him to miss any day of work. Today he was not late in arriving. He pushed his cart loaded with files for her and the others to process.

“Mr. Zelos, I missed you yesterday,” said Queenie. “I hope you were not ill.”

“No, Mistress Queenie Goldstein, Zelos not ill. Elf not get ill. Massa Mowbray take Zelos. Do Gnarlak work.”

“Mowbray? I did not know that Mr. Mowbray’s first name was Massa,” said Queenie.

“Massa not name. Massa Mowbray Magical Service Administrator. Massa Mowbray oversee elf work.”

“Oh, I see—MaSA, like MACUSA is the Magical Congress of the USA,” replied Queenie reaching into her desk. “But here Mr. Zelos. You missed my pastry day yesterday. I brought one just for you today.”

After going through their ritual of Queenie ordering Zelos to take a pastry, she asked, “Was your work for Gnarlak good?”

“Work always good. Zelos move bottles from big room to Gnarlak cellar.”

“That seems strange. Gnarlak has many who can do such work,” said Queenie, subtly inquiring about Zelos’ work for Gnarlak.

“Not elf work,” said Zelos with an air of obvious pride. “Gnarlak need fast move. Zelos move bottles from far north to Gnarlak cellar. Zelos very fast.”

“Does MaSA Mowbray often require you to do other work outside MACUSA?”

“Not often,” said Zelos. “Only special work. Only Gnarlak.”

“Some day I would like to marry and build a house,” said Queenie. “Do you think that MaSA Mowbray would let me borrow you to help build a house? Would you like that?”

“Zelos like. Massa Mowbray get much gold from Gnarlak for Zelos work.”

“Oh, I don’t have much gold Mr. Zelos,” said Queenie. “But it’s OK; I’m sure that I won’t need you for such special work for many years yet to come.”

“Zelos come when Mistress Queenie Goldstein call. Zelos have file,” said Zelos, handing Queenie a stack of file folders.

“Thank you, Mr. Zelos,” said Queenie. “You are a good friend. Is there a special lady elf in your work?”

“Zelos like Caro. Not tell Massa Mowbray. Massa Mowbray know; Massa Mowbray not let Caro, Zelos work together.”

“Do not fear, Mr. Zelos. I will always keep your secret. And does Lady Caro like to work with you Mr. Zelos?”

Zelos giggled a bit. “Caro like.”

“Then Mr. Zelos, you must introduce her to me. I would like to meet your Lady Caro.”

“Zelos does,” the elf said with a smile, beaming with pride and appreciation.

Zelos began to eat his pastry as he pushed his cart to leave work for when the other clerks would arrive. Again she saw him break the pastry and only eat half, wrapping the other half in paper. She had only once before entered the mind of an elf. Her curiosity was overwhelming. She was right. She saw in his mind that Zelos was saving the pastry for his Lady Caro.

Queenie glanced through the files and then shrunk them before slipping them into an envelope. She could not allow herself to be seen with them. She would wait until after she returned from potions with Horace. Then she and Jacob would go over them together.

Queenie sat alone in Jacob’s apartment above his shop looking over the files on Elizabeth Wohlfort while Jacob and Andrew closed for the day. With the close of the shop she would go downstairs to help him prepare for the next day, before they would go over the files together.

While they worked, she told him what Zelos had told her about Mowbray.

“This MaSA Mowbray sounds a lot like another Mr. Boveri,” said Jacob as he finished the night’s preparation. “I read in the news today that there was a shooting upstate in Poughkeepsie. Three gangsters were found murdered in an empty warehouse.”

“Do you think that Gnarlak did it?” asked Queenie.

“Probably not,” said Jacob. “It is more likely that Gnarlak had Mr. Zelos move the bootleg whisky out of the warehouse and when the gangsters found out, they killed those whom they thought were responsible.”

Finally, back in Jacob’s apartment, she waited as he read through the pages of wand examination report that began when Elizabeth left Ilvermorny.

Putting the files on the table, Jacob said, “They are only numbers. Nothing stands out. Maitland’s notes say that he only started to suspect her a year ago. Probably something in her wand examination a year ago drew his attention. Then he waits a year until her next examination. Why wait if he suspected something? Why not just go to her house and see for himself?”

“The MACUSA does not register the address of all witches and wizards,” Said Queenie. “Some keep there whereabouts secret. I am sure that Elizabeth would not have revealed where she lived.”

“But you said that they knew where she lived,” said Jacob, picking up Maitland’s notes. “Do they have some way to track you without your knowledge? They must have done something to find out where she lived so that they could spy upon her and discover her family.”

Jacob began to think out loud as he read over Maitland’s notes. “It had to have been after her latest wand examination, otherwise he would have picked her up earlier. She would have to come here to re-register her wand. He was waiting for her. Maybe her latest wand examination would have confirmed his suspicions—it wouldn’t matter if he tracked her.

”Beloved, are there magical tracking devices?”

“Almost anything can be spelled to make it a tracking device,” said Queenie. “A tracking potion could be spilled on her clothes. I cautioned her about the possibility of a tracking potion and a tracking device. She would probably not notice it, but that is not how I would do it. I would put it into something she ate or drank. It’s not harmful; it is not digested; it is tasteless. It wouldn’t last as long as a tracking potion put on her clothing, but it would stay in her until it passed through. Even if she suspected, she could do nothing—well, perhaps a strong laxative would speed things along.”

“Would the Aurors know about this potion?”

“This potion is not taught in school,” replied Queenie. “But I had copies of all the forbidden books of magic at the school. I experimented at school by feeding it to a squirrel and watching the trail it left on the parchment that had been painted with the companion potion that recorded where the squirrel was at any given moment until it was no longer in the squirrel. Yes, the Aurors would certainly know about it.”

“So, if the Aurors suspect you of something, there is no way to stop them from snatching you other than staying away,” said Jacob. “And wand registration insures that you can’t stay away. But what alerted Maitland to look at Elizabeth? Something in the…”

Jacob stopped. “Queenie, you must only eat and drink what you have brought from home—only what you or I have prepared. And you must never apparate directly here. You must always apparate home first, disappear all the clothing you are wearing and duplicate new before apparating here.”

“I will,” said Queenie, reveling in Jacob’s concern and protection. “What we need now is to put the numbers for each spell in a line stretching from the first year to the last. We will easily see any change in the number of times a spell was used. Then if Elizabeth started using a spell she hadn’t used before or used more often, we will see it.”

Queenie began by laying down across the bottom of a sheet of paper each year going back 19 years, from Elizabeth’s first wand registration after leaving school to the present. She did this for each separate spell in the file. As she did, she lay down the number for the spell above it’s year. The numbers moved up and down so that they would not go off the sheet of paper. She successfully graphed each spell used for all examinations.

Neither expect to find what they saw. It wasn’t the use of any spell that alerted Maitland. It was when Elizabeth stopped using cleaning spells that Maitland became suspicious. It must have been when she got the electric clothes washer.

“Now we know how to arrange what magic is done with your registered wand,” said Jacob. “To maintain the deception that you are a single witch, you must use your official wand for the things you would do for yourself as an unmarried witch. Every bit of magic you do for me, for us, you must do with one of your own wands.”

“That should work for every ordinary circumstance except a pregnant Queenie,” she said.

“The more I think about it, the more I come to believe that we will never be safe here,” said Jacob. “The MACUSA will continue to hunt for people like us. We can never be certain that we know everything that they are doing. We need to make England our home. We should find land where we can build a home.”

“I know, I agree, but I cannot leave my job at the Wand Permit Office,” she said. “I must be there to know what they will do.”

“I know, but we can overlap our efforts,” he said. “We can acquire the land and build our house all while you keep working here. You should probably keep your apartment in any case, just to facilitate portkey travel back and forth.”

“What about your pastry shop?”

“I will have to hire some people and put Andrew in charge,” he said. “This is getting complicated. I need to establish myself in England first. I need…wait a minute. That’s what we need to do for Bill Wohlfort. We need to get him established in England first, well before the end of the school year when Maitland plans to wipe George and Annie’s memories of their father being a no-mag.

“Has Maitland stopped watching him?”

“Yes, they only watched him for a few days to assure themselves that he was behaving—‘normally.’

“Getting to England is no problem; he can portkey.”

“But he must also be here,” said Jacob. “If he is building a new life in England, he won’t be able to continue here as he is. Even with the time difference he can’t work two jobs. He…”

Jacob stopped. He looked at Queenie and smiled.

“Oh, I see,” was all that she said.

“When you return from England tomorrow, see Bill Wohlfort when he leaves his work,” he said. “Tell him. Prepare him.”

Queenie prepared the polyjuice potion so that she would appear to be the same handsome middle-aged man she was when she first met William Wohlfort. She waited for him across the street from the entrance to the Westinghouse plant. When she saw him come through the gate, she mixed with others leaving and followed him. But he was not going to his home. She saw him enter a bar not far from the plant. This was not good. He needed a clear mind if she was to restore his memories from the pensieve. She entered the bar and sat next to him. He was just staring into his beer.

Queenie carefully took her wand of her own making from her vest pocket, a very short wand no longer than a fountain pen, and created a shower of sparks from the ceiling. As everyone turned to look up, she grabbed William’s wrist and apparated. She had stood to apparate, but he was still sitting. Now sitting on the floor of his own living room, he was disoriented but strangely not confused or fearful.

Looking up at a well dressed man, he ask, “Who are you? What is this about?”

Standing up, he walked into the kitchen.

“Who I am does not matter,” said Queenie. “You will understand everything very soon. And you need to remain clear headed.”

She pointed her wand at the bottle he was taking from the kitchen cabinet, pulled it out of his hand and placed it back in the cabinet. He showed no surprise at this.

“Let me ask you a question,” Queenie said. “Do you have dreams about a woman whom you do not know or perhaps about children you do not know?”

“How did you know?” he asked.

“It’s residual memory that sometimes manifests itself when obliviation is done too quickly,” she answered. “What you have seen me do just now would normally engender feelings of confusion and fear. You exhibited no such feelings.

“I am here to restore your actual memories, memories that others had erased, memories that I saved before those others erased them from your mind,” said Queenie. “It is best if you are willing. May I proceed with your cooperation?”

“Oh, why not,” he said. “I’m about to be fired anyway.”

“Excellent,” said Queenie.

“Excellent that I will cooperate or excellent that I am about to be fired?”

“Both,” said Queenie, smiling, as she took the pensieve from her briefcase. “Sit, I will begin. It won’t take long, but I must caution you that you may experience strong feelings of anger and hatred when you realize what was taken from you.”

Stirring the pensieve with her wand, Queenie directed a fountain of memories to flow into the mind of William.

With all memories back in their proper place, William sat still, staring at the man sitting next to him. “I know you. You’re the Legilimens who preserved my memories.”

“Yes, your memory of me and all of your memories before your obliviation will be clear, as they were before,” said Queenie as she entered William’s mind. “You will feel no discomfort from remembering. But there is a conflict that you must face. You have lived the last week without those memories. You remember that week also and what you have done because of what others did to you. You must reconcile these most recent memories of your life of the past week with your real memories that were taken from you—your memories of the life you lived with Elizabeth.”

William’s eyes went wide; he went quickly to the sink and vomited; grasping the edge of the sink, his whole body began to tremble; grabbing a knife, he plunged it into the cutting board.

Queenie saw that he was about to collapse and slid a chair to him so that when he did, he simply sat down. She then moved him back to the kitchen table and summoned a glass into which she poured water from her wand and add a six drops of calming potion. “Drink this. It will help you to relax and we will talk.”

When she saw in his mind that he was calmer, she said, “Your anger, your hatred is natural, rational, proper. Your physical reaction at the sink came when you when you saw your helplessness in the face of an evil you could not comprehend, even though Elizabeth explained what could happen. You had never actually dealt with the evil. You never saw what it actually was. Now you have.

“Your anger and hatred are instantaneous signals that you are faced with a monstrous evil, but you must not let your feelings of anger and hatred direct your actions. Be calm; be deliberate; be rational—not emotional.”

William nodded and said, “You have been here before, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Queenie. “I haven’t had to confront what you are confronting. I have never had my memories erased, but yes I have been here before. A good friend, a no-mag like yourself, once pointed out what I have just told you when I was feeling such strong anger and hatred. He allowed me to enter deep into his mind. I saw his memories and feelings when he fought in the no-mags’ great war. I saw his anger and hatred, and I saw how he realized that the feelings were only signals, not a blueprint for action. The blueprint for action comes from thought, deliberate, calculating, rational thought. That is what we must do now.”

“You have a plan?” asked William.

“I have a sketch of a plan,” replied Queenie. “I need your help to fill in the details.

“First, you will not be safe here. I believe that England will be the best choice for you. Of course Australia or New Zealand also do not ban mag/no-mag marriages. This is where I need your help. I do not know anything about your work. I do not know where you could begin again doing what you do now.”

“I see,” William said. “I don’t think that I would like to start over as a sheep farmer. Metrovick, Metropolitan-Vickers used to be British Westinghouse. I met one of their engineers here. We worked together on a turbine design for two months.”

“Then England it is,” said Queenie. “The basic plan is that you get yourself fired for drunkenness. You have already made a good start on that. You will need a new name. With your help, I will modify your records at the company to reflect your work under this new name. I will create all the identification papers you need to emigrate to England under this new name.

“I will need to impersonate you to check in to a residence hotel. You will need an address to get a passport under your new name. This address will also be the one used by Elizabeth and your children for their passports under your new name. You must not go there. You will be in England under your new name. I will check on all mail. It’s important to keep you and Elizabeth apart during these coming months. It is especially important that your children not see you—not know that you are alive.

“That’s it in a nutshell. There is more; I will have to obliviate your name from the memory of those with whom you work. They will remember you and all the work you did; they just won’t remember your name. I will have to impersonate one of them to suggest that the man they worked with was you by your new name and that you went to work for Metrovick.”

“You can do that? You can put a thought in their minds?”

“No, not by magic,” said Queenie. “I can remove their memory of your name, but I will have to actually confront them in conversation to suggest your new name to them as it relates to their memory of your face, your work, your person. Once your new name is associated with your face and characteristics for one thing, it will cascade through their minds, carried along by their memory of you.

“Records are easy to modify with magic, but you will have to actually point out each individual so I can modify his memory.”

“Does Lizzy know what you are doing, that you are restoring my memories?” he asked.

“No, she is under close observation,” said Queenie. “She thinks that you are alive and well with no memory of her or your children. She does not know how depressed you were. None of us knew. She will be questioned weekly under veritas serum. She cannot know what we are planning. We will inform her at the very last moment, just before the children’s school year ends when we will take her to join you.

“During the time leading up to this, you must establish yourself at Metrovick while at the same time you are here establishing yourself as a drunk. The time difference between here and England will help with the deception. Depending on when your work day begins at Metrovick, you can portkey to England at 2:00am, arriving at 7:00am England time. If you work eight hours to 5:00pm, you can easily be back here by 1:00pm our time and sleep until 9:00pm when you will begin making the rounds of bars and establishing in the minds of everyone that you are a drunk. Or, you can sleep at your new home in England and portkey back to begin your round of drunkenness.

”Here, you will need this.” Queenie reached into the briefcase. “This potion will neutralize the alcohol in your drink—one dropper full per drink. It is absolutely critical that you are always clear headed while letting others think that you are a depressed staggering drunk.”

“That is all very good, but how is that going to help?” said William. “When Lizzy goes to England, the MACUSA will look for her and find her there. It won’t matter what I do.”

“It will matter,” said Queenie. “Your part is crucial to getting Elizabeth out safely. I will explain later, but first we need to work on identifying what I must alter in the records and whose memories I must obliviate.”

Finally, after having fortified herself twice with polyjuice potion, Queenie rose from the table. “I will prepare the two portkeys you will need to travel back and forth from here to England. Are you ready to do what you have to do tomorrow?”

“I’m ready, but I will hate doing it,” he said. “I know I need to be fired, but the people I will offend and insult are good friends, good people.”

“I can see no other way,” said Queenie. “These MACUSA agents of ‘moral rectitude’ cause real harm in their quest for the greater good. I can rescue you and your family, but I can’t undo the harm that they have done. I can, however, remove from them the memory of your foul behavior when I suggest your new name to them.”

“I know,” he said. “I think that my hatred of the MACUSA will continue to burn long after we have rid ourselves of these people.

“I have a name—Amos Royer—a long ago ancestor on my mother’s side.”

“I will begin altering the Westinghouse records as soon as you are fired. Good bye for now. I will see you tomorrow evening at 5:00pm. I will apparate into this kitchen.”

Taking a scissor from her case she said, “One more thing; I will need a snip of your hair for the polyjuice potion so that I can impersonate you.”

Queenie apparated to her apartment, put the pensieve away and considered waiting for the polyjuice potion to wear off, when on a whim she decided she would surprise Jacob. She grabbed some of her clothes and apparated to Jacob’s apartment where he waited for her.

She had entered Jacob’s mind before she left so that she could see the moment of his surprise. She was able to enter Jacob’s mind from anywhere now. The shock was also visible on his face.

“No, No, It’s me, your Queenie,” she said, speaking quickly. “We have not been found out. Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. See, this is the short wand that I took when I went to see William Wohlfort.”

Jacob took the wand she handed him and turned it over in his hands before setting it on the table. “And I can’t even surprise you for your birthday while you can practically give me a heart attack. I guess you will just have to make up the surprises for the both of us.

“So, I will see you change back to my Queenie?”

“If you want,” she said.

“I want, but remain clothed until just before you are about to change,” he replied. “You can tell me how thing went with William while we wait for you to change back.”

So Queenie told him about William and that when the personnel department was closed, she would alter the records to add a false report for William Wohlfort and alter his own records to have the name of Amos Royer.

It was then that Queenie stood and removed her clothes, and Jacob saw her as a middle aged male gradually change back to his Queenie.

“Much better, I much prefer this Queenie,” he said. “Hmm…”

Queenie blushed slightly at his thoughts before she repeated his last thought to him, “It would seem that you are able to surprise me, but yes there is no reason to dress right away. I will happily yield to your wishes.”

Chapter 10: Chapter X - The Second Station Stop
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter X
The Second Station Stop

Disillusioned, standing out of the way against the wall, Queenie waited in the Entering Chamber for Elizabeth to apparate in for her weekly parole interrogation. Soon she would know how Maitland would react to Elizabeth moving into the Hotel Bellaclaire where she was doing the laundry for both the hotel and the residents. She entered Elizabeth’s mind as soon as she saw her apparate into the Entering Chamber with her son Calvin. When Elizabeth left to meet with Maitland, Queenie waited a moment to assure herself that the Entering Chamber was empty before she made manifest her physical self and walked back to her desk.

At her desk, Queenie followed Elizabeth as she walked down the hall. She was nervous about what Maitland’s reaction would be to her moving into the Hotel Bellaclaire where she took washing. She walk through the door to Maitland’s office without knocking. Queenie saw the satisfaction she experienced when Maitland reacted angrily as she entered unannounced.

“In the future you will knock, announce yourself, and wait until you are summoned.”

“I was summoned,” she said. “I was summoned by you to be here at this time. I am here at the appointed time. Drop the power play. Give me the veritas serum; let’s get on with this. I have work to do and Calvin does not like it here; he’s afraid of you. Your threatening manner when he first saw you ensured he would not like you.”

“You would be well advised to adopt a less aggressive attitude,” said Maitland threateningly. “Things will go much smoother if you do.”

“You want me to appear subdued before your implied threats,” replied Elizabeth defiantly. “I will not be intimidated by you. The veritas serum—please.”

Queenie saw that Elizabeth noticed Panty shifting uneasily in his chair. Maitland brought out a vial of some liquid. Elizabeth placed a piece of paper on his desk. “Accio vial,” she said, taking the vial from Maitland’s hand. Catching the vial, she put a few drops on the paper, stirred the droplets with the tip of her wand, and read the words that appeared on the paper, “ ‘Veritas serum,’ Ok, we can begin.”

Queenie was surprised. Elizabeth had used a revealing charm on the serum to write on the paper which must have be like the paper the wand examiners used to record the results of the prior incantato spell. She was very competent as Jacob had said—more competent than she had suspected.

She administered the veritas serum herself.

“You may begin,” she said.

It was Panty who asked, “Why did you test the veritas serum?”

“I don’t trust you, either of you,” she answered. “I don’t trust the MACUSA. Continue please.”

“Where are you working?” asked Maitland harshly, determined to not let her know that he already knew—that he was tracking and watching her.

“I am taking in laundry for the Hotel Bellaclaire,” she answered plainly with no elaboration.

“That’s a no-mag hotel,” exclaimed Maitland. “You will stop this.”

“I will not!” said Elizabeth. “I have spent over 15 years shielding my magic from the no-mags in whose world I chose to live. I didn’t just hide from you wizarding predators, I hid from everyone.

“I know what I am doing. You don’t. I have created a secure cleaning room in the basement of the building where none of the no-mags ever see my cleaning methods and seldom see me. I have built a wall of clothes hampers, much like the no-mag postoffice mail boxes only larger, where the hotel maids can place the dirty laundry in a hamper dedicated to one resident. I mark the clothes, clean them, package them, and return them to the hamper where the maids will pick them up for delivery to the residents. I have separate hampers for hotel linens. I have even created a false wall in the cleaning room and expanded the space between it and the real wall to create an apartment suite for myself and all of my children when they leave Ilvermorny for the summer. This has the advantage of not only allowing me to come and go without alerting the no-mags but also not costing me the rent that the MACUSA charges for my assigned quarters. Which I might add is rather excessive. I have stopped paying that rent.”

“You are not permitted to change your residence,” said Maitland. “You will move back and make application for a change of residence.”

“I—will—not!” she emphasized. “You know nothing. I will not be driven into poverty because of your insatiable lust for power—your desire to lord that power over me. I have complied with your demands that I not contact my husband. You assured me that he would remain alive and well, albeit without any memory of us, as long as I remained away from him—I have.

“I intend to do what I must to ensure that my children grow up with only the sadness of the sudden death of their father. Time will ease their pain. I will not let you pour salt into their wounds. I will not have them grow up in poverty. Obeying your every whim is not part of what I agreed to.

“You have not asked, but I will tell you. I engage with the no-mags because I can hide from them that I am a witch. Their bigotry will not affect me. The bigotry of witches and wizards is something that I cannot shield against. It is that bigotry that would drive me into poverty. I will not allow you to do that. I will protect my children, and by staying away protect my husband.

“I do nothing more than many witches and wizards do. There is simply not enough work in the magical community here in America to provide an acceptable income for all of us. As I said, you don’t know what you are doing.”

The interrogation continued along this vane with Elizabeth assertive and defiant. It was almost as if Elizabeth had not taken the veritas serum. When in school she had herself taken veritas serum in potions class, she had felt only distress; Elizabeth experienced no distress. Perhaps her willingness to be fearlessly truthful coupled with her anger allowed her to be so defiant without feeling the distress of resisting the veritas serum. She was not resisting the veritas serum. She was defiant but she did not resist the serum.

Elizabeth’s interrogation came to an end with Maitland asserting that an auror would check on her every day. As they moved to leave Maitland’s office, Queenie gathered an arm load of files she had held for this moment and timed her walk to Mr. Abernathy’s office so that she would be there when Elizabeth arrived with her escorts. She was about to leave when Maitland walked into the office, followed by Elizabeth and her son, followed by Panty.

“Oh, hello,” said Queenie as she left Elizabeth’s mind and entered Maitland’s. “Say, I know you. Don’t tell me. I will remember. Elizabeth, right? Your name is Elizabeth. Forgive me, but I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Wohlfort,” said Elizabeth.

“I’m Queenie Goldstein, and I am pleased to meet you Elizabeth Wohlfort,” said Queenie. “And I assume this is your son. He looks a very fine young man.”

Queenie got from Maitland one new thought: If Calvin did not manifest himself as a wizard, he would have to obliviate Elizabeth’s memory and that of her other children of Calvin’s existence, and deliver Calvin to a no-mag orphanage.

“I must go now, but stop by on your way out. I brought pastries for the office. I am sure that your son would like one, or maybe one for now and one for later.”

“Thank you, Queenie,” she said. “We will.”

Before Queenie left she entered Panty’s mind, she saw through Panty’s mind Maitland say harshly to Elizabeth, “You had to tell her your last name. Don’t even think about telling this Queenie about your situation.”

“You’re an idiot. I’m still under the effects of the veritas serum,” replied Elizabeth. “I’m not a fool, I know what’s at stake and I know that you would like nothing better than to find some excuse, any excuse, to restrict me further. I know that you would think nothing of harming William more than you already have.

“Now, Mr. Abernathy, this is my wand. Do what you have to do so I can be out of here.”

Queenie did not have to follow Maitland. She knew what he wanted and she knew what she had to do to protect Elizabeth. Now she wanted to know what Panty was about. So after gushing over Elizabeth’s son Calvin and informing her that she always brought pastries on Tuesday and Thursday, and inviting her to visit whenever she came, Queenie, in Panty’s mind, followed him. Both he and Maitland had stayed to observe Elizabeth until she departed. Maitland appeared to go back to his office, while Panty headed to the elevators. Queenie knew where he was going. His excitement about being chosen to report to President Seraphina Picquery was so strong, she doubted that he could conceal it even through occlumency. She waited patiently for him to be summoned into Picquery’s office, and followed him in when he was finally summoned.

“Well Ruggero, how did her first interview go?” asked President Picquery.

“Elizabeth Wohlfort answered all questions while under the influence of the veritas serum,” said Panty. “However, she’s very angry, very defiant. I had never seen such hostility in a subject before.”

“Did she resist, try to lie?” asked Picquery.

“No, not at all,” said Panty. “But before we had given her the veritas serum, she had walked into the room without knocking or announcing herself. Maitland tried to reprimand her for not waiting to be summoned. She angrily replied that Maitland had summoned her and that she was here at the appointed time. She said, ‘I will not be intimidated by you. The veritas serum—please.’ The contempt in her voice was obvious. She took the vial from Maitland, put a few drops on a paper—she verified that it was veritas serum; then she administered it to herself.

“I asked her why she had tested it. She stated without hesitation that she did not trust us, that she did not trust the MACUSA.”

“And you say she was unable to resist the veritas serum?” asked Picquery.

“Yes, but she was angry, defiant, insulting,” said Panty. “I have made an auto-scribe recording. You can listen for yourself. I have never seen a subject respond the way she did.”

“Was there anything else, other than her defiance, that was out of the ordinary?” asked Picquery.

“No, nothing I can think of,” replied Panty. “Unless you count the fact that Goldstein was in Abernathy’s office when we arrived to examine her wand.”

“Goldstein—Goldstein was there! I thought she was in England. She did not notify us of her return.”

“Not the auror, Porpentina Goldstein,” said Panty. “Her sister, Queenie who works for Abernathy. She was leaving as we arrived.”

“Oh, that’s a relief; Queenie is of no consequence,” said Picquery. “Was anything said that would alert Queenie as to something being wrong?”

“No, Goldstein only partially remembered Wohlfort,” said Panty. “She remembered Elizabeth but not her last name. Maitland was angry that she told Goldstein her name. She replied that Maitland was an idiot as she was still under the influence of the veritas serum. When Wohlfort left, she stopped by Goldstein’s desk where she picked up a pastry for her son. It’s all on the auto-scribe.”

“No matter, Goldstein’s no possible threat,” said Picquery. “Maitland will have his way soon enough. As soon as all the children are together and away from Ilvermorny, I will have him obliviate all memories of their no-mag father. For them and her, he will not have existed.”

“I understand why it must be done,” said Panty. “I don’t understand why you haven’t done it already. Why don’t you just take the older children from school and be done with it?”

“The Headmaster and none of the teachers would cooperate,” she said. “Their opposition began not long after the passing of Rappaport’s Law. They would not allow children to be taken, and if they learned what we planed to do, they would warn the parents and assist them in evading us.”

“But there are the aurors,” said Panty. “You could force them to accept your orders.”

“It’s been tried many years ago with very poor results,” said Picquery. “The school’s protections were increased to protect against witches and wizards, in addition to discovery by the no-mags. Ilvermorny has the heaviest concentration of competent, powerful witches and wizards in America, perhaps in the world. A witch or wizard cannot enter or leave except through a magical gateway that must be opened for him.

“Maitland did not accompany you in when you took Elizabeth to tell her children that their father had been killed. An auror would have no place in this. His presence would betray our true interest, and our true intent, but an administrative assistant from the MACUSA would not alert them. We must maintain our deception for a few months longer. Wohlfort must not get outside assistance from those at Ilvermorny.

“The professors at Ilvermorny have never been cooperative with our efforts to enforce Rappaport’s Law. And, without assistance from Ilvermorny, we cannot know about children of no-mags who are attending.

“Toward the end of the last century, we created the Wand Permit Office so that we could examine wands to discover magic used that was not consistent with what might be expected of an unmarried witch or wizard. It is not a sure thing, but it helps to identify someone who might need watching. It narrows our pool of suspect miscreants.

“Even then, it is important to gain the cooperation of the subject until they can be gathered together. Of course, if there are no children at Ilvermorny, we just move ahead and obliviate all. The most important thing when children from Ilvermorny are involved is to get the wand out of the hand of the witch or wizard and convince him that the only way he can protect his children from being oblivated is by cooperating. But even this doesn’t always work. A few years ago, my predecessor found out the hard way. Three aurors ended up totally oblivated.”

“Alexandros Metaxas,” said Panty.

“Yes, you have certainly heard the rumors,” said Picquery. “What you do not know is that Metaxas must have interrogated the aurors before he obliviated them. We do not know for certain, but all the files relating to the Metaxas family have disappeared. We assume he stole them. He also obliviated the memory of those who knew anything about him and the operation against him—not the total obliviation of the aurors who obliviated his wife, but their memories of him and the operation. We have no idea of where he is now. The only reason we know anything about Metaxas is through piecing together what he missed. We knew something had happened because the three aurors were left with no memories. Even my predecessor had no memory of Metaxas and he certainly would have known.”

“But we are hunting him for what he did,” said Panty.

“That is Maitland’s fantasy,” said Picquery. “We keep that rumor active. It might help to keep him out of MACUSA territory, but no real effort is made to find him. There is too much to do without having to hunt a man who could be anywhere. Our efforts have focused on finding those marriages before the children attend Ilvermorny.

“This, you keep to yourself. Very few know this. We need the rumor to be believed.”

When Panty left the office of the president, he was thrilled that Picquery would entrust him with such a secret.

“So, Picquery thinks me of no consequence,” thought Queenie, remembering what she read in Jacob’s copy of The Art Of War. “She knows herself, but not her enemy—But I know you, Picquery, and I will not be in peril.”

Queenie had all she needed. She had to prepare to meet Elizabeth again before she left for her job at Slug and Jiggers. But, before she did, she had one loose end to tie up, one piece of information to gather.

Disillusioned, Queenie walked along a dark, seldom visited, corridor from which numerous half height doors led to clusters of rooms. She would have to stoop low to pass through. These were the elf quarters. She did not enter.

At the end of the corridor was magnificent large door made of glass and exotic woods. She could see Mowbray sitting at his desk which was on a raised podium. He was addressing several elves in white. It was all that she needed.

Looking directly at Mowbray, Queenie entered his mind. He was yelling at the cleaning elves over some complaint by some wizard who considered the effort of the elves inadequate. This was of no concern to her. She searched his memory for the information she wanted—information about his dealings with Gnarlak and where he kept the gold he got for those dealings. And just as Mr. Boveri kept a ledger of his extortion, so Mowbray kept a ledger of his back room dealings with Gnarlak. He was confident that his decoy safe would provide all the safeguard he needed against theft and that the gold in the legs of his desk would not be discovered. He had even left a few gold dragots in the safe to discourage further searching. He reveled in his trickery. The ledger was on a shelf among other books with similar covers. He had some serious protections on entering his house, but now she knew how to pass through.—Now, that was interesting, very interesting and very disgusting, she thought at the discovery of an endeavor she had not suspected. And all very precisely recorded in his ledger. She would do this again now that she was familiar with his mind.

When it was time to meet Elizabeth, Queenie apparated to her apartment. But before she did anything, she took the memories she had taken from Mowbray and put them into a pensieve. She then chose a middle aged, attractive although somewhat plump woman for her disguise and after disillusioning herself apparated to the hall outside Elizabeth’s laundry room. Opening the door with her wand, observing that the receiving room was empty, she entered, locked the door, and made herself visible. She unlocked the door that allowed her to pass behind the wall of individual hamper cabinets and walked in to find Elizabeth duplicating a shirt. She quickly turned with her wand in her hand to face Queenie.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said Elizabeth. “The manager assured me that I would not be disturbed while I worked. There is a bell outside if you needed to speak to me. Wait, how did you get past the locked door?”

She only noticed Queenie’s wand when she said, “Muffliato.”

Queenie who had entered her mind as soon as she saw her, said, “You need not fear. I am here to help protect you from those you do fear.”

“Who are you?” asked Elizabeth. “And what do you want?”

Answering her, Queenie said, “I am Mahalia Anderson. I am here to preserve your memories so that they can be restored if we fail. You are very angry, but I am not the one on whom you should focus your anger.”

Queenie placed her wand on the table and took from her shoulder purse one large and one not so large jar.

“I will preserve your memories in this pensieve I have created for you,” she said. “Your’s and your son’s. You know why. You already must suspect that Maitland isn’t going to play fair with you.”

“I do,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t trust him, I don’t trust any of them.”

“You are right to not trust them. They plan to obliviate your’s and each of your children’s memories so that none of you will have a memory of William.”

“What do you mean ‘if you fail?’ “ asked Elizabeth.

“If Maitland chooses to act before we can get you out of America to a safe location, we must be able to restore your memories so that when we do, you can start over with an undamaged mind.”

“Will you get Bill out too, so we can meet again for the first time?” asked Elizabeth.

“It’s done,” said Queenie. “We have preserved and restored Bill’s memories. He’s playing his part.”

“Can I see him?”

“No, you must not,” said Queenie. “If Maitland gets even a whiff of a suspicion that Bill is not thoroughly oblivated, he may change his methods. I cannot even guess what he might do to Bill. Right now, he is not observing or even considering Bill; he thinks Bill has been satisfactorily neutralized. You must not make any attempt to see Bill or discover what he is doing. If you do so, you could bring everything down on your heads.

“Maitland intends to grab you and your children as soon as they are home from school. George and Annie must know how important it is for them to always stay within the confines of Ilvermorny.

“Bill is fine; he remembers you and is already building a life for when you join him. You must stay away.”

Queenie saw in Elizabeths mind what she wanted—a strong fear that Maitland might do something worse than obliviate Bill and a strong determination to stay away from Bill.

She knew, but she asked, “Will you be visiting your children at Ilvermorny this weekend?”

“I will,” she said. “If the weather holds, we will have a picnic lunch and watch a quidditch match.”

“Good; now listen carefully,” said Queenie. “Even if the weather is not suitable for a picnic, take your children for a walk to the very tall solitary pine tree that is just east of the quidditch pitch. Do you know the one?”

“Yes I know it.”

“It is important that you come at noon,” said Queenie. “I will meet you there and save the memories of George and Annie. I won’t be able to do this often, but I must do it soon. I also must arrange for your passports under your new name. Visit every Saturday; make it a regular event so that Maitland will come to expect it as a pattern of action on your part. If he asks, tell him it is to reinforce the idea that William is dead and to comfort George and Annie. When I am ready, I will meet you at the pine.”

“I understand,” said Elizabeth.

Queenie then quickly poured first Elizabeth’s memories into her pensieve and then those of Calvin. With that done and after putting the two pensieves in her shoulder purse, still in Elizabeth’s mind, she isolated all her thoughts about the discussion except her strong emotions about not seeking Bill and the desire to take her children for a picnic lunch by the solitary pine and comfort them. She would remember Mahalia, but not expect to meet her.

Queenie excused herself, walked out into the receiving area of the laundry, disillusioned herself, took out the padlock, inserted and turned the appropriate key and portkeyed to the solitary pine east of the quidditch pitch. Unseen, she walked quickly and quietly to the castle that was Ilvermorny. The halls were empty as all were at lunch. She looked in and verified that the Headmaster was there. She entered his mind to search for what he knew about the Elizabeth and her problems with Maitland. She found what she wanted. The Headmaster knew—now she was certain. The Headmaster knew and would protect George and Annie. A turn of the key in the second padlock brought Queenie to spot on the mountain ridge, slightly above where she could see all of Ilvermorny. She paused to take in the view before she apparated home to prepare for an evening of potion making and the study of wandlore.

Chapter 11: Chapter XI - A Secret Plan
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XI
A Secret Plan

At last Queenie was home. It had been a most rewarding day—so much accomplished over the past few weeks, so much for the Wohlforts, so much for herself. She very much wanted to see Jacob and bathe in the tonic of his thoughts, but her very long days were taking their toll. And Jacob had to close for the day, so she took a short nap. Her pukwudgie woke her when she knew he would be alone. She was about to apparate to him when on a whim she put on her diadem wand.

When she came downstairs and into the preparation room, she saw such an expression of delight on his face at her presence she did not have to enter his mind, but she did.

“You are lovelier than ever,” he said, immediately thinking that that was so inadequate, but he could not find the words. They made quick work of the preparation for tomorrow, with Queenie restocking Jacob’s wood pile and his paper bags, cups and wrapping. She even made several duplicates of the small bag of fresh coffee beans. She had decided that coffee, not being nutritional—only flavored water, was a food that could be safely replicated and consumed without any possible danger to the drinker. She looked for anything that he might need duplicated.

When they had finished and were walking upstairs to his apartment, he said, “I have been think about that diadem.”

“Go ahead,” she said. She could have found his thoughts but she took such great pleasure to allow him to pull her into those thoughts he wanted her to know.

“I think that you should wear that diadem all the time,” he said. “I know that it appears to be too fancy for everyday wear, but I think that if you were to wear it under your hair with only the unicorn horn poking out from under your hair as it fell on your forehead, it would not seem excessive or out of place and you would always have a wand at the ready.”

“You may be right,” she said, pulling the upper part of her hair up and sliding the diadem over the top so that when she released her hair it fell to cover the diadem. “Like this?”

She knew that it was just as he imagined. “Is it necessary?”

“I think so; you decide,” he said. “Now, tell me everything you did today.”

And so she did, right up to her nap and deciding on a whim to wear the diadem tonight. The last thing she said was, “You are right, I will be in less danger, and I will have more confidence to deal with people such as Maitland, knowing that I have my wand already in hand, so to speak. And if I have to obliviate some memory, I can do it without anyone seeing that I have a wand.”

“I do not understand why these people think they can get away with what they are doing,” said Jacob. “It’s so easy to procure a second wand for use in performing ‘suspicious’ magic.”

“Not so easy,” said Queenie. “The purchase of a wand is reported to the MACUSA.”

“They could go to Diagon Alley and buy one from Ollivander’s,” he said. “It is simply incomprehensible that people so powerful would be so docile. I know I said that the power makes them lazy, but there has to be more to it than that. It might be interesting to look at when magical innovations occurred and see if what innovations did occur, occurred at a constant rate. Then we could see if the International Statute of Secrecy restrictions had any impact. I have to think about this more.”

He held out his hand; she came and sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Tell me your thoughts about England,” she said. “I know you have decided. I will float downstream along with your words and thoughts.”

He held her close and spoke softly, “I have taken the first steps to relocate to England. The more you tell me about those you work with, the more I come to think that the only safe place in America for us, for our children, is at Ilvermorny. There is simply no reason to place our children in harm’s way just to live here, and there is no reason to delay acting. England is enough like America, that moving there should not be too difficult; they even speak English—well sort of. We would have to learn some new words such as lorry and boot and bonnet and yobs—and muggle. But we should do ok.

“I have already talked to Enrico Gagliastro about Mia coming to work for me. He is very agreeable to letting her do so. Andrew can gradually take over the complete operation of the shop and I can spend time looking for a place to build our home. I will make Andrew a silent partner and eventually transfer ownership to him as soon as I am certain that he is capable of continuing the shop. He’s coming along well with his pastry skills.

“I need to be certain he can also manage the accounts and the people I will hire. This means that you will have to stop assisting me so Andrew can know the true, non-magic, costs. Tonight will be the last time you replicate anything for the shop.

“Oh, Enrico says he will have our watches in a week. He’s making a wristwatch that is something like a pocket watch in a hunter case. It will have an upside down hunter case. It will look like a normal watch, but on the underside it will have a lid that opens like a locket. You will be able to open the back cover to work on the portkeys without opening the watch to its mechanism.”

“I’ll be ready,” said Queenie. “Bob Holden has been showing me how to link the portkey destination part through a wand core and how to draw out its memory for the bounce back port key.

“Do you think we should live close to Tina?”

“We can,” he said. “But I think it would be better to find a remote location—land that is not close to people and not suitable for farming. The land will have to be cheap. I have saved a lot since you began duplicating for me, but I don’t have so much that we can buy desirable land. And when you stop duplicating, so I can establish proper expenses for Andrew, I will be saving much less.

“We will never be far from Tina or anyone who matters to us. With the portkeys, we would never be far. Actually, if you could rig up a double pair of message boxes large enough to hold a person or two, one for arrivals and one for departures, we could visit as if we each had adjoining apartments. It wouldn’t matter where our separate houses were. We would always be next door to each other. And we wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into each other should we each be trying to visit the other at the same time.

“But we need to take our time. We need to do this right. We need to have our home complete, before we move and when we move it should be sudden, without notification to anyone. You should keep your apartment or find another as a port of entry and continue at the MACUSA without anyone knowing that you were actually living in England. No one must suspect what you are actually doing.

“Once Andrew is ready to take over, which should be about the time you move Elizabeth and her children to be with William, I will sell the shop to him. He can pay me over time from his profits. And, if you will make several of those message box pairs large enough to fill the back of a delivery van, I can bake in England and hire people to deliver to restaurants and hotels in New York. Because of the time difference, I will be able to keep normal daylight hours and still have fresh pastries to my customers for the start of their day.

“I can determine the number of delivery vans and drivers I will need by determining how much I can bake. I will actually be able to bake more without having to split my time between baking and serving my customers, and still have more time for you and our children.”

“But you love dealing with your customers,” said Queenie.

“I do, but it is the baking that I really love,” he said. “Well, it’s you that I really love. It will be no sacrifice to accommodate in this way.”

“You could hire a few people in England to assist you,” suggested Queenie. “That would enable you to build a larger business.”

“It would,” said Jacob. “But it would leave me less time with you, and every person I would have to supervise would take me away from baking and creating new pastries. We will make more than enough money for us and our children, especially if I can verify that duplicating flour, sugar, milk, and all the other foods I use will not damage the nutritional value of the food.”

“But duplicated materials deteriorate faster than the original,” said Queenie somewhat surprised at this course of thought.

“I know, but it may not matter,” said Jacob. “Food spoils because of molds and other things like bacteria that live off the food—just as we do. Flour is really not different from the wood that you duplicate for me.”

“But we don’t keep the wood,” said Queenie. “We burn it up.”

“That is true,” said Jacob. “We wouldn’t want to build a house out of the wood that you duplicated, but we don’t save the flour either. We use it up right away.”

“I see,” said Queenie. “But how would you verify that the pastries were fit to eat?”

“I was thinking that I could get some mice and feed some their original food and others the duplicated food,” said Jacob. “I spoke to a professor of biology at NYU. I told him I wanted to test the food value of different preparations.”

“What is NYU?”

“It’s New York University, a school of advanced learning for no-mags,” said Jacob. “I monitored a few history courses there while I was at the canning factory.

“The professor said that I would need 30 to 50 mice in each group and he showed me the calculations I would have to do to answer my question of whether the mice in each group lived the same number of days. But I think that I should do the same experiment to see if both groups of mice can breed successfully.”

“This is fantastic,” said Queenie, astonished at the very idea, even more astonished that no one in the wizarding world had ever thought of it. “How do you come up with these ideas?“

“I don’t know,” said Jacob. “It just seems the natural extension of what we are already doing. You can duplicate some things, why not other things? All we have to do is take into account that the duplicated item will deteriorate faster. The only question is to what use can we put these deteriorating items. After all, it’s not really magic; it’s just another way of changing what we find in nature to fit our purposes.”

“Will this experiment take very long?” asked Queenie, after a moment’s thought. She was surprised at his comment about what she did, not really being magic. She did not have to go deep into his mind to understand why. He had said it: it’s just another way of changing what we find in nature to fit our purposes. She realized for the first time that that was why he had no fear of ‘magic,’ why he so readily accepted that there were witches and wizards. They were no more of a threat to him than another baker.

“Different breeds of mice have different lifespans,” said Jacob matter-of-factly. “Maybe three years. If we continue the experiment for successive generations, it could go on forever. I will decide with the completion of the initial lifespan and breeding experiments. They should finish at about the same time. Until then, I will use only original food ingredients.

“Your ability to duplicate is truly an extraordinary wealth multiplier.”

Queenie was just enjoying the ebb and flow of Jacob’s thoughts when taking her down a different course, he said, “I need to know, beloved. Do you wish to continue working for the MACUSA or do you wish something else?”

“I do not wish to continue working for the MACUSA! I want to be out of there as soon as I can safely leave; I want to start building my life with you; I want to pursue potions, but I also want to do something to rid us of Rappaport’s Law. I wish I did not have to stay, but I might have to continue at the MACUSA if I am to have a chance at convincing someone who can make a difference in seeing that Rappaport’s Law is repealed.”

“Then you should do it, but you need not stay with the MACUSA,” said Jacob. “Ridding us of Rappaport’s Law will not be a matter of convincing a few influential members of the Magical Congress or even all the members. Follow my thoughts. I have a plan to do both; you can pursue all your ambitions.”

Chapter 12: Chapter XII - Friends, New and Renewed
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XII
Friends, New and Renewed

“I see that you are wearing your diadem wand,” commented Bob Holden. “A prudent measure too, given the hostile nature of the MACUSA. And very nicely concealed beneath your hair. I would consider it for myself; however, a diadem by its very nature would be somewhat obvious if I were to wear it on my head.”

“You could put a wand in a hat,” said Queenie, smiling at his humor. “Hmm, no; you would have to find a way to ensure that it stayed on your head and not blow off and there would be times when you would be expected to remove the hat. Better to create a bracelet that spiraled around your forearm and was concealed by your shirt.

“It’s funny, I come to learn about wand making and so far we have spent most of our time discussing portkeys.”

“You have made great progress in your wand making,” said Bob. “You have created seven coppiced shoots of seven different woods. Now, you can focus on making a wand from dead wood while you wait for them to grow.

“It would, of course be better if you could spend more time, but I know your work at the Wand Permit Office and the time difference makes that difficult.”

“It’s not that. I could easily spent another two hours with you,” she said. “I am, however, also working part time with Horace Slughorn at Slug and Jiggers to develop my potion making skills. Potion making will be my profession for all to see. Wand making, I will keep secret.”

“Wonderful, potions also,” he exclaimed. “You continue to affirm that my original assessment of you was correct.”

Queenie blushed slightly and smiled, saying, “And of course I must have time to spend with my intended, the gentleman about whom you guessed quite correctly.

“I will, however, be able to be here for a longer time come the beginning of summer, if that is ok with you. I will quit the Wand Permit Office and move here permanently. We are looking for a place, a remote place, where we can build our home.

“I am thinking that we can build two pair of very large message portkey boxes, large enough to portkey a couple of people at once. I think that if one of the pair was only for sending and the other only for receiving, we would not have the problem of possibly bumping into each other if two tried to use the box at either end at the same time.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Bob said, excited about a new thought he had never considered. “We can do it now. We only need to make a small model though, just big enough to test with a couple of mice or rabbits.

“It will be the same as a normal portkey with the one exception that a normal portkey can be activated from anyplace; however, there will be no risk of misplacing or loosing it. And it guaranties a safe destination—no unwanted observers. All in all, a superb innovation.”

Queenie smiled, saying, “Actually, it was my intended who suggested it.”

“He sounds like an interesting man,” said Bob. “I would like to meet him.”

“And so you shall,” said Queenie. “I will introduce you to him when we move here. He is already spending time with maps of England and Ireland for when we begin our search. But, for now, we should begin on those boxes. I’m eager to prove that we can do it.”

When Queenie returned from England, she composed a letter to Jacob.

My Beloved,
The portkey closets work. We tested a model with a rabbit—no ill effects. I may be late. It all depends on what information I get from the nurses. Don’t wait up.
Your Beloved

Queenie was late when she returned from modifying the Wohlfort children’s birth records to identify them as Royer. She entered Jacob’s mind and knew that he was asleep. She wondered if he was snoring; she could not tell. She took the time to shower and then wearing nothing but her diadem, she apparated to Jacob’s apartment. Selecting the duplicate of the pajamas that he was wearing she carefully slipped into bed next to him. Queenie had come to relish being in his mind becoming aware of her as she moved up to him under the covers.

“Yes beloved, I’m here,” she said softly as he began to stir to her touch. “Just go back to sleep; I’ll tell you tomorrow; I shall share your dreams now. Shh.”

At her desk early, alone with no distractions from others, she tried to remember the dream she had shared with Jacob. They had talked in the morning; they always talked of their dreams together. He had dreamed of Ilvermorny; so had she; she was with him in the dream next to the tall pine tree from which she would portkey in and out of grounds when she was a girl. She had told him so, they had shared dreams of Ilvermorny before.

She quickly made notes of everything that she could remember of the dream; her memory of the dream details was fading.

As she slipped her notes into an envelope labeled “Dream Notes” she noticed Zelos approaching with another elf she had never seen before. Queenie entered Zelos’ mind and knew that this elf was his Lady Caro. It was difficult for a witch or wizard to determine the sex of an elf, but the elves seemed to have no problem.

She recognized Lady Caro, by the red-violet pillowcase she wore, as one who worked exclusively for the congressional office. Zelos wore a light yellow-green pillowcase showing that his work was in the numerous department offices. White was worn by kitchen and cleaning elves, while bright red was reserved for those serving the Aurors.

Queenie waved to Zelos, taking a small box from her desk. “Mr. Zelos, is this your Lady Caro?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress Queenie Goldstein,” said Zelos smiling. Caro blushed and giggled slightly at Queenie’s referring to her as Zelos’ Lady Caro. “Caro not sure. Zelos say OK. Mistress Queenie Goldstein say Zelos can eat pastry. Caro not sure if OK. Zelos say Mistress Queenie Goldstein order Zelos to take pastry. Caro believe Zelos. Caro not at ease.”

“Oh, I see,” said Queenie. “Well, Lady Caro, Mr. Zelos was not at ease either when I first offered him a pastry. I always order Mr. Zelos to take a pastry when I have them and he comes.”

“Lady Caro, I order you to take some pastries to eat for your own enjoyment,” said Queenie as she opened the box to reveal several much smaller, elf size, pastries. “I asked my baker to make smaller pastries so that you could taste a variety. Is that better, Lady Caro?”

“Much better, Mistress Queenie Goldstein,” said Caro.

“And, Lady Caro, you may come by yourself for pastries if Mr. Zelos is busy with work and cannot leave to bring you. Just remember that I come to work early and leave before noon,” said Queenie. “Now for you Mr. Zelos, I order you to take pastries from this special box of small pastries that I will hold for you and Lady Caro, and if Lady Caro is not with you, I order you to take some for her if that is what you want.

“Lady Caro, if Mr. Zelos offers you a pastry, know that I have ordered him to do so. Is that better?”

“Mistress Queenie Goldstein make better,” said Caro.

“I am happy to help make your work better,” said Queenie. “If ever you are troubled, know that you can speak to me. Mr. Zelos knows this.”

“Mistress Queenie Goldstein good; Zelos say,” said Caro. “Must go now; Massa Mowbray call Caro; go congress hall.”

As Zelos and Caro walked away, Queenie smiled as she saw in Caro’s mind that she expressed her appreciation to Zelos, “Mistress Queenie Goldstein better witch.”

Still feeling good about Zelos introducing Caro to her, she decided to pop over to Jacob’s and get some pastries for Horace and Mr. Jiggers who were quite appreciative of her consideration as well as the taste of Jacob’s creations. Horace was definitely appreciative of the taste.

Her work at Slug and Jiggers was exactly that, work. She was not learning or studying new potions, although she was occasionally asked to prepare a potion she had not done before. Horace would supervise closely when such was the case. He would send her to pick up a new potion request from the customer when Mr. Jiggers called.

This call was for color fixing potion, that would prevent a painted surface from fading in the sunlight, for a Mrs. Chang. A color fixing potion would last much longer than a spell. It wasn’t a common request. Most preferred the quicker easier method of spelling the paint rather than mixing a potion with the paint. It was also much cheaper to use a spell, and the paint could always be respelled in a year or so.

“Miss Goldstein, help Mrs. Chang, while I continue with Miss Smith’s request,” said Mr. Jiggers.

Queenie could only stare.

“Miss Goldstein, is anything wrong?” asked Mr. Jiggers.

“No, Mr. Jiggers,” said Queenie, regaining her composure after having met Athene Metaxas after so any years of wondering. “Come with me Mrs. Chang. If you will tell me exactly what you want, I will get it for you straight away.”

Once in the back room, Queenie introduced Mrs. Chang to Horace as an old friend from school. “Horace, may I take some time to visit with Mrs. Chang while I prepare her potion?”

“Of course you may,” said Horace. “Once you have her potion made, go into the rear yard. I will cover for you.”

Queenie worked quickly and soon had the potion made. Neither said anything to the other. As soon as she was done and they were alone each began speaking at once.

“I’m so sorry,” said Athene. “I should have let you know that I was well; father would not let me.”

“It’s all right,” said Queenie. “I know. I didn’t for the longest time, but I recently learned what happened. Your father was right to not allow you to write. I also heard that the MACUSA is not looking for your father. He did too good a job of destroying their memory and records. That doesn’t mean that they won’t snatch him up if they stumble across him, but they are not actively looking.

“But you must tell me; what have you been doing, and married; do you have any children; what does your husband do; where did you meet? Oh, and how is your mother?”

“Slow down Queenie,” said Athene. “My mother is fine. My father simply began courting her again. Gradually he told her what had happened. She seemed to have some bits of memory which helped. I have two brothers now, each is a wizard.

“Father brought us to a small fishing village in Greece. He became a fisherman with a small boat. He had plenty of gold, but we were hiding and he wanted to look like everyone else. Fishing was easy for him. He always had a good haul. He only had to summon the fish into his boat. We lived well and my mother is happy there.

“He taught me practical magic, some of which I already knew such as summoning, locking, and unlocking spells and others such as the shield charm, duplicating, and disillusionment which I did not know how to make, and portkeys which we had only started on before he took me away. When he was satisfied that I could take care of myself, he sent me to boarding school in England for a muggle education. He cautioned me to always obey the rules even when I did not like them and could easily circumvent any restriction placed on me. He created a portkey for me in case I wanted to come and see him. He would also portkey to me most every night to teach me some magic.

“He cautioned me against letting the other girls ‘get under my skin.’ He said that young girls could be vicious, but they could not hurt me. He said it was important for my safety to not draw attention to myself. He wanted me to study and be able to fit easily into the muggle society so that I could move back and forth with ease. That is what I did and when I finished, I began work at the Bodleian library in Oxford University. It was there that I met my husband, Chang WenBao. He’s an artist. He paints, but also illustrates magazines and children’s books.”

Athene leaned close to Queenie and whispered, “WenBao is a muggle.”

Queenie knew and she knew Athene was sincere, trusting, and with no malice in her mind. She said, “It’s all right. I will never betray your trust.” Then in a burst of spontaneous resolve, she said also whispering, “My Jacob is a muggle. He’s my husband; we have married each other secretly. No one but my sister and her intended know. To a few others, he is my intended. No-one else knows.”

“Queenie, this is wonderful,” said Athene. “We must meet. I am sure that WenBao would like that. What does he do; where do you live—what is your name?”

“I am Queenie Kowalski, but I do not use it yet. I cannot let anyone know. I work for the MACUSA in the Wand Permit Office. It was there that I learned what had happened to your mother.

“I knew that marrying Jacob would present ‘difficulties’—we would have to be very careful, but when I told him what had happened to you he said that we should move out, away from MACUSA grasp, before we let anyone know that we would marry—that we are married.

“That is what we are planning now. I work half days at the registry and come here for a couple of hours to work with Horace. I will come here full time when we finally move. Jacob is a baker. He has a pastry shop which he is arranging to sell to his assistant.

”We will both be coming here this weekend to look for a place where we can live. I will tell him about you and WenBao. Can you see me tomorrow at about this time? I work from five to seven; we can work out the details then.”

“That would be perfect,” said Athene. “I’ll come tomorrow. Let’s go back in. I am so eager to tell WenBao. Oh, how could I forget, we have a son, Caden. He’s two.”

Queenie took Jacob to a small wooded area behind the old church graveyard. Athene had taken her there when she and Queenie had finalized their plans for visit and pointed out the best place into which to apparate. With a hedge between them and the graveyard, they made their way unnoticed to the open area between the rear of Athene’s house and the canal that ran behind her house and the wooded area behind the church.

“Queenie, over here,” called Athene holding her back door open. “We are almost ready for you. Caden is asleep and WenBao is taking the dumplings out of the steamer. It’s such a nice day, I thought we could eat out here where we can see the canal. But come, I will introduce you and show you around while WenBao brings everything out.”

Both Jacob and WenBao remained quiet, listening to their wives catch up on their missed years. Finally the conversation came up to the present when Athene asked how their house hunting was going.

“Let Jacob tell you,” said Queenie. “He did all the work. I just tagged along. Well maybe a little more than just tagging along. Jacob would tell me where he wanted to visit and I would apparate us there. He had prepared a list of places—mostly remote mountainous areas.”

“That must make house hunting difficult,” said Athene. “We also had to find a house away from both wizard and muggle where we would fit in and not attract attention. Fortunately WenBao could work anywhere, although he needed to have ready access to London. We’re only a short walk from the train station which will take him into Oxford and then on to London if needed.”

“Jacob wants to build a house,” said Queenie. “He has it all worked out. He…oh, you tell them.”

“As you wish,” said Jacob, smiling. “The house I have in mind will be modeled after an ancient Roman villa. I can remember when I first saw a picture of one. It seemed perfect in every way. It’s the reason I became interested in history. From that first picture, I sought out everything I could find about the ancient world.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Queenie, feigning surprise.

“We have only known each other for less than half a year, beloved,” teased Jacob. “You can’t expect to know everything all at once.”

“All right, but I do expect to know everything eventually.”

“Eventually,” repeated Jacob before continuing. “I see the house having the kitchen, dining room, and parlor at one end of an inner courtyard, and my baking kitchen and our bedroom at the other end of the courtyard. Along one side of the courtyard would be the children’s bed rooms—four rooms should do.”

“Are you sure four bedrooms will be enough?” teased Queenie.

“Oh yes, beloved,” said Jacob matter-of-factly. “Each room will be large enough to sleep four. And along the other side of the courtyard would be the portkey gateway pairs—some for us and some for my baking.”

“What do you mean by ‘portkey gateway pairs?’ “ asked Athene.

“Queenie figured out how to create a gateway to transport a person to it’s designated destination. She’s really quite inventive, my Queenie is. I didn’t realize it until after she told me she was a witch and floated a 50 pound sack of flour onto my work table and began duplicating firewood for me.”

“Jacob is fascinated by magic,” said Queenie. “In fact, he doesn’t think of it as magic—just a different method of doing things and making things. He’s reading my spell and potions books now.”

“You can actually understand the magic in Queenie’s books?” asked WenBao, somewhat incredulously.

“Oh, yes,” said Jacob. “They are, after all, written for children. If you are interested, start with the history. The spell books are interesting, but only as background to understand what can be done.

“I found that I just couldn't do the spells. I don’t interact with the wand properly. The few times that I have tried didn’t work out. Apparently these wands have a protection of their own. The simple levitation spell resulted in the small stone being blasted away as well as a stabbing pain in my hand that lasted for a time after I set down the wand. It didn’t matter what spell I tried; it always resulted in stabbing pain and the object being blasted away. There is definitely something different about witches and wizards, and those of us who are not.

”But, if you are really interested, read about potions. I found that I didn't need to be a wizard to make potions. After all, I do essentially the same thing in making my pastries, although they won’t compel you to tell the truth. And I’ll bet, dollars to donuts, that Queenie could teach you how to make the fixing potion that Athene bought for you to add to your paint.”

Jacob sat back in his chair and stroked his chin as if he had a beard. This was a signal to Queenie to enter his mind. He thought to her: Beloved, I think that we should inform WenBao and Athene about the Wohlforts—not their names and what we are doing, not that the MACUSA knows, but that we know of them and are helping them to get to England to avoid the MACUSA. Because of our situation, we spend our efforts avoiding contact with both wizard and non-wizard. We should see if we can establish a secret society for us miscegenators. You decide. If not now, then perhaps later.

“You know what I will do? I will make up a pair of message boxes so that we can send messages to each other,” said Queenie. “There are others like us. We are helping one couple get to England before they can be harmed by the MACUSA. They have three children; one just a year older than Caden. We could use the gateway portkeys to visit. It would be as if we all lived next to one another. But first we can start with the message portkeys just to keep in touch. It would be good for us—for us outcasts—to keep in touch with each other.”

“And maybe send dumplings and pastries back and forth,” said Jacob.

So it went for the rest of the afternoon, talking about keeping in touch, exchanging recipes, talking about Jacob’s plans for working from England, and visiting WenBao’s studio. Queenie was ecstatic to witness Jacob’s excitement as she saw growing in his mind the vision of his imagined interior court yard of their house looking like the Chinese garden in WenBao’s paintings. Seeing him explore new thoughts was the best part of being a Legilimens.

Chapter 13: Chapter XIII - A Minor Disturbance
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XIII
A Minor Disturbance

“Well, my beloved, are you ready?” asked Jacob, handing Queenie a slip of paper which he had prepared.

Queenie took the paper and read. “It will be hard on Elizabeth when she sees this.”

“I know,” said Jacob, “But she needs to feel the sorrow and the hatred, if only for a moment. You will relieve her of her sorrow, but it is important that she feel the evil perpetrated against her and William. She will feel and know the importance of not letting down her guard.”

“William has sold his house and booked his passage, and this Saturday, I will take him to Lake George to practice. He will spend all his time in England until I bring him back to board.”

“And the editor?” asked Jacob.

“I have met him and flirted with him—a little,” said Queenie smiling. “We will see each other again the day after. He will only remember what I let him remember.”

“Good, then we can only hope that there will be no other great disasters between now and then. For now we just wait,” said Jacob, handing Queenie a large bag of pastries as she kissed him and apparated to work.

Queenie liked this time, when no one was present but her. It was quiet and she could finish all the work she had for the day before anyone else came; it gave her time to reflect. This morning she reflected on her preparations. She only had to take one day off work and miss one day away from her potion and wand making. The message boxes she had made for Horace and herself made notifying him effortless.

William had performed admirably and was now back in England, waiting for her to finish. She had seen the editor; the story as Jacob had written it was on the front page of the Daily News.

She arranged the pastries on the table for the others when they came and was on her way back to her work station when Mowbray came in and began to look behind and under the desks. He had not noticed her and was startled when she asked, “May I help you with something, Mr. Mowbray?”

Mowbray jerked himself erect, saying, “I am looking for the house elf, Caro. Have you seen it?”

“Not today, Mr. Mowbray,” she said, entering his mind. “But I don’t understand. Why are you looking? You just have to call for her and she will come to you.”

“I have tried,” he said. “Caro does not come.”

“How is that possible? She is a house elf. Even if she were not here, she would still come to you.”

“I don’t know how it is possible,” he said. He was plainly irritated. “This has never happened before. Only when a house elf is transferred to a new owner will it not come to the old owner when called.”

Queenie firmly in Mowbray’s mind knew what she wanted him to think about. “Perhaps she has been sold. There must be others who can do that. After all she does not belong to you personally, she belongs to the MACUSA.”

“That is true,” said Mowbray. “But I am the one who arranges for the sale and purchase of house elves, even if someone else desires it. I am charged with keeping the records of ownership.”

“I see,” said Queenie with a pleasant smile. “I did not know that. I will call for you if I see her. Good luck in your hunt.”

But Queenie had gotten what she needed and it disgusted her. Now she needed to find Lady Caro.—No, she need to call Mr. Zelos. He would find her.

“Mr. Zelos, come to me,” she said.

As she waited, she saw Mr. Zelos peek around the corner and duck back again. When he peeked back around again, she waived and called to him.

Slowly, Mr. Zelos wheeled his cart to her desk.

“Mr. Zelos, have you seen Lady Caro today?” asked Queenie.

“Caro work in Congress Hall,” said Mr. Zelos hesitatingly.

“Now, Mr. Zelos, that does not answer my question,” said Queenie. “Have you seen Lady Caro today?”

“Zelos see,” said Mr. Zelos. “Does Mistress Queenie Goldstein call Massa Mowbray now?”

Queenie had entered Mr. Zelos’ mind and knew what troubled him. Now, she could answer without him becoming suspicious of how she knew.

“I see, Mr. Zelos. You overheard what I said to MaSA Mowbray,” answered Queenie. “I only said that so as to be polite. I must be agreeable. I do not want him to think that I might try to oppose him.

“Now you must tell me what you know about Lady Caro’s trouble with MaSA Mowbray. I have to know if I am to help. I will not betray your Lady Caro. MaSA Mowbray has no power over me.”

“Mistress Queenie Goldstein special witch—Zelos say! Massa Mowbray want breed Caro to Gnarlak house elf,” said Mr. Zelos. “Caro not want. Say not proper for MACUSA elf. Zelos make elf prison. Put Caro in. Massa Mowbray not find.”

“I never heard about an elf prison. Is that why Lady Caro did not come when MaSA Mowbray called?” asked Queenie.

“Caro not hear call,” said Mr. Zelos. “Caro not go. Wizards not know elf prison.”

“Is your elf prison here?” asked Queenie. “Here in this building?”

“Elf prison here,” said Mr. Zelos.

“We must get Lady Caro away,” said Queenie. “If the elf prison is here, MaSA Mowbray may find it. But, if we take Lady Caro out of the elf prison to move her, she may hear MaSA Mowbray call and go to him.

“Take me to Lady Caro so I can see.”

“Caro here,” said Mr. Zelos as he moved the curtains of his cart aside to reveal a small metal box that took up the entire space of the cart behind the curtains.

Queenie came around her desk and attempted to lift the cart. She could barely lift it off the floor. But she would not have to. She would only have to hold on tightly.

“We will go to the entry chamber now,” she said. “It is good that it is so early.”

Once in the entry chamber she conjured a strong rope and tied up the cart as if she were wrapping a present with a ribbon. After the cart was securely tied, she took the ends and wrapped them around her waist and tied them tight. She held tight to the rope.

“Hold tight to my arm, Mr. Zelos,” she said. “I am going to apparate to my apartment.”

As soon as Mr. Zelos had grasped her arm tightly, she apparated.

In her apartment, she quickly floated the elf prison out of the cart and tied the rope around the metal box.

“Mr. Zelos, this is my apartment,” said Queenie. “Now that you know where it is, can you apparate here if I call you?”

“Zelos can, Mistress Queenie Goldstein.”

“Very good,” said Queenie. “Lady Caro, can you hear us when we speak?”

“Caro hear.”

“This is what I will do,” said Queenie. “I will take you someplace else where someone else will talk to you. You should tell him everything. Mr. Zelos, you should go back to your work now. It is best that you do not know where Lady Caro is. Then, if you are asked, you can say that you don’t know and it will cause you no distress. I will come back shortly. No one must suspect that we have been any place but at our work. I will send messages to this other person and he to me. We will figure out what to do.”

Queenie sat down at her dining room table to write a note on a scrap of paper. “Go now Mr. Zelos. I will be back at my desk as soon as I have delivered Lady Caro to safety.”

Jacob felt his watch vibrate. He took out and read the message from Queenie.

Most urgent—bringing someone special—message back when you receive this—message back when you are alone in your apartment.

Almost immediately Queenie felt her watch vibrate. Jacob had sent back the first part of her message which he had torn off. Then a few minutes later she received the last part of her message.

“I’m going to apparate again, Lady Caro.”

Once in Jacob’s apartment above his pastry shop, she appraise him of the situation. “Now, I must go. Find out what you can. Message me when you know more. I will message you.”

Queenie was in Jacob’s mind as soon as she had entered his apartment. He thought she would be but still he thought to her: stay in my mind. She kissed him and said, “I will.” Then she was gone.

“Lady Caro, Queenie has gone back to her work. Only the two of us are here now,” said Jacob. “I do not know much about house elves. I have only met one other. It is very strange for me to think that one person can own another; Queenie says that this is the way you like it. But the work you do can easily be done by witches and wizards—why should they bind you to only serve them?—Strange and puzzling.

“Tell me something. Do the owners ever transfer or sell their house elves to another owner or do they just rent them out as MaSA Mowbray wants to do with you. I know that MaSA Mowbray rents out Mr. Zelos to Gnarlak.”

“Zelos work same. Same for MACUSA. Same for Gnarlak. Zelos move things,” said Lady Caro. “Caro move things. Caro bring coffee, tea, water, and coco. Caro move for MACUSA. Caro move for Gnarlak. All same. Massa Mowbray take elf baby. Not proper.”

“I understand,” said Jacob. “Even though a master can expect a house elf to do what he commands, there are still limits. Some things must not be asked of a house elf. Still this is strange. I think that people should trade their work with each other. Then, everyone does the best he can and each gets the best he can from the other.”

“That like Past Time,” said Lady Caro. “Time before wizards.”

Jacob was shocked. This was something new. “Will you tell me about the elf history of the Past Time?”

“Not history,” said Lady Caro. “Legend. Time before wizards; elf and man trade work. Work good. Elf happy. Man happy. Wizards come. Wizards take elf. Elf must only work for wizards. Elf and man not trade work. Elf just work. Work still good.”

Jacob felt his watch vibrate. Taking out the message, he read: Another time—need to know how to protect.

All right, beloved. He thought.

“Lady Caro, if we were to take you to England, would you still hear MaSA Mowbray call? Would you have to go to him?”

“Still hear. Still go,” said Lady Caro.

“So, if I open the door to your elf prison, you would hear and go?” asked Jacob.

“Caro hear, Caro go.”

“I see,” said Jacob. “Is there anything that can stop you from hearing MaSA Mowbray calling and enable you to not go?”

“No,” said Caro. “Caro must go to master.”

Jacob’s watch vibrated again. He read: If it is the only thing that will work, OK—will ask Mr. Z——wait for my message before asking.

“Oh, I never asked, are you comfortable?” asked Jacob. “I don’t know what I could do for you if you weren’t.”

“Caro comfortable,” said Lady Caro. “Zelos give Caro pillow and bucket before close door.”

“That was kind of him,” said Jacob, wondering about the bucket. “I think that Mr. Zelos cares greatly for you.”

Again Jacob’s watch vibrated. He read: Z—— agrees—ask C——.

“Lady Caro, I know how to protect you,” said Jacob. “If Queenie can persuade MaSA Mowbray to sell you and Mr. Zelos to her, would you be agreeable to this? Mr. Zelos has already said that he would be agreeable to this.”

“Massa Mowbray not agree,” said Lady Caro.

“Leave that to Queenie,” said Jacob. “The only thing that is important is whether you would like Queenie to be your actual mistress. You and Mr. Zelos would be together.”

“Caro agree,” she replied quickly.

“Good, then all we need to do now is wait,” said Jacob. “Queenie will succeed or fail. She will tell us when she is ready. For now you can tell me more about the Past Time and the time when man and elf lived together.”

“Mr. Zelos, now we begin,” said Queenie. “Not 30 minutes ago, MaSA Mowbray was here looking for Lady Caro. Can you find him now and go to him as if he had called you?”

“Zelos can.”

“Good, can you take me with you?”

“Zelos can.”

“I don’t want MaSA Mowbray to know that we are with him,” said Queenie. “I don’t want him to see you. I will disillusion you and myself. You will take me to him and when I squeeze your arm with my other hand, take me back here. Then you hide until I call you. I will send a message to my friend, telling him to open the elf prison so MaSA Mowbray can call Lady Caro. Then we will transfer the two of you to me.”

“Not work,” said Mr. Zelos. “Only elf open elf prison.”

“I didn’t know,” said Queenie. “Change of plan. After you take me to MaSA Mowbray, when I squeeze your arm, take me to my apartment. I will then take you to Lady Caro so you will know where to go. When I am ready, you can go to her and wait for me to call. When I call, release Lady Caro so that she can hear me or MaSA Mowbray call. Then both of you come to me. I will be with MaSA Mowbray. Then we will make the elf transfer.”

Queenie held her hand over Mr. Zelos’ head and disillusioned him.

“Hmm, that worked well,” said Queenie. “I can’t see you. Do you feel all right?”

“Zelos feel good.”

“Mr. Zelos, take my left hand in your right hand before I disillusion myself,” said Queenie holding her hand out to Mr. Zelos. And, as soon as he had taken her hand, she held her right hand over her head and disillusioned herself.

“When I want you to take me to my apartment, I will squeeze your right arm like this,” she said, squeezing his upper right arm. “Now take me to MaSA Mowbray. Do not let go of my hand.”

MaSA Mowbray was upbraiding one of the congress elves, interrogating him as to where Lady Caro was. Queenie quickly entered Mowbray’s mind and with the use of the imperious curse calmed him and obliviated his desire to know about Lady Caro.

Mowbray dismissed the elf and started back to his office. Queenie and Zelos followed. Queenie quickly verified that the protections he had put on his home and gold were unchanged. This was what she needed. She gently squeezed Mr. Zelos’ arm and he took her to her apartment where she removed the disillusionment spells.

“I have what I need,” she said, taking Mr. Zelos’ hand. “Now I will take you to Lady Caro.”

“Back so soon?” questioned Jacob. “I thought that you did not want Mr. Zelos to know where the Lady Caro was, lest he was questioned.”

“Things have change,” she said. “Only an elf can open the elf prison. I think that Mr. Zelos should stay with you and if someone calls for him, he can come to me first and then go to the one who calls. I don’t think it will happen; it is still too early; no one is in the offices yet.

“When I am ready, I will call for Mr. Zelos and he will open Lady Caro’s elf prison before he comes to me. Then I or MaSA Mowbray will call for Lady Caro and we will do the elf transfer.

“Oh, I almost forgot; I need a sock to effect the transfer.”

And she was gone, the moment Jacob handed her a sock.

“It would seem that Queenie is in a bit of a hurry,” said Jacob. “I am Queenie’s friend, Jacob Kowalski. You know me by my pastries. I am Queenie’s baker.”

Mr. Zelos’ eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Yes, I know you like my pastries,” said Jacob. “So, I will assume that you also eat bread. I have plenty and I will make sure you do not go hungry, even if we don’t have much work for you now. Queenie and I have plans for the next few days. You can’t stay here; you might be discovered. Queenie and I will take you to a small stone cabin in the mountains where you can stay until we come to you. It is there that you can help us build our new home.

“But I don’t know much about elves. Do you eat the same food as do witches and wizards?”

Knowing all the magical combinations for entry, Queenie easily entered Mowbray’s “money room” and quickly located the journal of his dealings with Gnarlak. She removed the last five entries for a total of 57 gold dragots and walked to his desk where she removed the last 57 dragots he had placed in one of the hollow legs. She then duplicated the journal twice and returned the original to its place on the book shelf.

Once out of Mowbray’s house, she apparated to Jacob’s room.

“The first part is done,” she said, handing him one of the copies of Mowbray’s journals. “Now, I need Mr. Zelos to take me to MaSA Mowbray.”

And after disillusioning them both, she was off again.

Standing in Mowbray’s office in front of him, Queenie moved herself and Zelos to one side to stand against the wall. Then, making a book fall off a bookshelf behind Mowbray to divert his attention, she removed the disillusionment spell from Zelos and whispered, “Go to Lady Caro now.”

When Mowbray turned, after putting the book back on the shelf to face where Queenie stood disillusioned, she removed the disillusionment spell from herself, so shocking Mowbray that he reached for his wand. He did not know what to make of what happened next.

Wearing her concealed diadem wand, Queenie held up her hand and said, “Expelliarmus, Accio wand.”

Queenie walked to Mowbray’s desk where he remained half standing, astonished that she had bested him so easily, that she could do such magic without a wand. Pushing her hand toward Mowbray, she pushed him into his seat before she lay his wand on the desk, and said, “Your position with the MACUSA may afford you greater power and prestige than mine, but you are not so strong so as to oppose me. I hope that you realize this. I do not want to hurt you.”

Inside his mind she followed his thoughts as he sought some avenue by which to attack and overcome her. She oblivated each such thought as he came to it until he sat back emotionally numb, suffocating in an emptiness of hopelessness. It was when he was in this state that she silently used the imperious curse on him.

“I have come to offer you a deal,” said Queenie, as she lay her copy of his journal on his desk. “You recognize this journal. It is a journal of your transactions with Gnarlak—favors done—payments made. This is a copy. The original remains on the shelf where you placed it. I will destroy this copy if you cooperate and do as I want.”

Then softening her voice and manner, she reiterated, “I have no wish to harm you. You would be wise to agree and do as I say. You will even come out ahead.”

Queenie placed 17 gold dragots on the desk. “I want you to sell me the house elves, Zelos and Caro.”

“17 dragots is not enough for even one elf,” said Mowbray. “The MACUSA requires 20 dragots for each elf it sells.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Queenie soothingly as she spilled an additional 40 dragots onto the desk. “The 17 are for you. I said that you will come out ahead. You decide, do you accept this offer or do I bring this journal to the aurors and they bring their veritas serum to you?”

Queenie could feel a hopeless panic overwhelming his mind. “I will not harm you if you agree. If you agree, I will destroy this copy and step out of your life forever. You can continue as you were, 17 dragots richer and confident that you are safe from me or anyone else.”

She could see his relief at her words and said, “Prepare the transfer contracts for immediate and irrevocable transfer.”

Queenie read the transfer contract and saw in his mind that there was no trick language. They both signed the contracts and Queenie pushed the gold across the desk to him. She then lay the sock on the desk.

“Now for the ceremony that will make the transfer binding,” said Queenie. “Mr. Zelos, come to me.”

Fifteen seconds passed slowly before Mr. Zelos stood next to Queenie.

“Excellent, Lady Caro, come to me.” She came immediately.

“Now, that we are all here, we can finish,” said Queenie.

MaSA Mowbray picked up the sock and held it out to Zelos. Zelos grasped it in the middle, then Queenie grasped the other end. Mowbray let go of his end and Queenie pulled Mr. Zelos to her, touching his hand before she took the sock from him. She then gave the sock again to Mowbray who offered it to Caro and they repeated the ceremony.

“Are we done now?” asked Mowbray, somewhat irritated.

“Almost,” said queenie. “I want you to order Mr. Zelos and Lady Caro, each in turn to fetch you a book from your book shelf. Mr. Zelos, Lady Caro, you are to not obey MaSA Mowbray, now or ever again.”

“Is this really necessary?” asked Mowbray.

“It is,” said Queenie. “Do this and I am out of your hair for ever.”

Mowbray did and as expected, neither elf obeyed.

“Mr. Zelos, Lady Caro, go back to Jacob and I will join you shortly.”

When the two elves had gone, Queenie said, “Now to finish my part of our deal.” She held her hand over the journal and disappeared it. Deep in Mowbray’s mind, she felt his relief before she obliviated all memory of their dealings as well as Jacob’s name, leaving only a pleasant, vague recollection that he had sold two elves—he did not remember who they were—to someone and had made 17 dragots doing it.

All in all, a good day’s work, he thought to himself.

Taking her copy of the transfer contract as he was filing his copies, she disillusioned herself and walked to the entry chamber where she apparated to Jacob and her newly acquired house elves.

Chapter 14: Chapter XIV - The End of a Voyage
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XIV
The End of a Voyage

Queenie, having returned to the entry chamber with her two disillusioned elves, left the entry chamber, thinking to herself: Only 45 minutes from when Mr. Zelos first told me about Lady Caro’s difficulty—“All in all a good day’s work.”

Looking around to be certain no one else was watching, Queenie removed the disillusionment charm from Mr. Zelos and Lady Caro.

“Although I would prefer to have you at our cabin in Scotland, Jacob is right,” said Queenie. “Given what we must do, it is better to not draw attention to ourselves through your absence. The longer no one here realizes that MaSA Mowbray has sold you to me, the better it will be for us all. Just do your work as you are ordered.”

“Zelos does, Mistress Queenie Kowalski,” said Mr. Zelos.

“Oh no, you and Lady Caro must call me Mistress Queenie until we are finished here and have left for Scotland,” said Queenie. “No one must know I am married.”

“Caro and Zelos does, Mistress Queenie,” said Lady Caro.

“And gather up the things you want to take with you and bring them to Jacob’s apartment when you can do so without being observed,” said Queenie. “And, if there is any trouble, go to Jacob’s apartment. Tell him and he will tell me. Don’t come to me, just leave.”

“Zelos does, Mistress Queenie.”

“Caro does, Mistress Queenie.”

Queenie finished the work she had for the day and waited. This would be Elizabeth’s last visit although Maitland was counting on two more before he would grab her children when she took them home at the end of the school year after their exams.

Elizabeth would come by her desk for a little conversation and a pastry for Calvin—just pleasant conversation—never any questions—never anything to alarm Maitland who always stood nearby. This, Queenie had arranged simply by being friendly where Elizabeth had no friends among witches and wizards. An explanation of what she would do for her and suggesting that she stop by before and after her session with Maitland, followed by obliviating all but the desire to stop by also helped to insure she would.

She switched to Maitland’s mind to understand what he might have planned for Elizabeth this afternoon, for this afternoon would be different. She did not expect anything different and she saw that in his smug arrogance he was confident that his tracking potions would alert him to any unauthorized travel or movement on Elizabeth’s part. He was pleased with his ability to monitor her from a distance without alarming her and causing her to act precipitously; he was content to have her watched through his maps. She kept to a predictable routine. Queenie smiled along with him, knowing that his efforts were for naught.

The morning dragged on slowly. Queenie, having completed her work for the day, busied herself bringing coffee and socializing with the other clerks. An hour before the lunch hour arrived, she disillusioned herself and went to the canteen where she waited for Maitland to arrive. He liked to eat before the canteen began to fill up with office workers off for lunch. He would review his morning’s work to see if he needed to alter his afternoon plans. He was thorough and meticulous.

Queenie had made good use of his officious habits; she could read his mind as if she were reading a list of things to do. Today, even without Legilimency, Queenie could see the air of self satisfaction he exhibited. But what she needed and found was to know that he planned nothing for the next hour and no exceptions to his normal afternoon routine after that.

Back in her apartment, she looked through the empty cabinets and dressers. She had, weeks ago, removed to their cabin in Scotland everything that she would not need for this day. She had removed, to Jacob’s apartment, all her clothing and sundries that she would need for the next few days. She did not sleep here anymore.

Dressed in the clothing appropriate for Mahalia Anderson, she would wait until the very last moment to take the polyjuice potion. She gathered everything, the polyjuice potion, the pensieve of Elizabeth’s memories, the package of clothes for her and Calvin, her copy of the Daily News, the two padlock portkeys that would allow her to enter and leave Ilvermorny, and the one portkey that would take her to England. She apparated to Jacob who waited for her.

Jacob took her clothing and watched silently as she took the polyjuice potion and rearranged her diadem under Mahalia’s hair.

“Be quick,” said Jacob. “Be safe.”

She kissed him, took from him the package of clothes for Elizabeth, disillusioned herself, and apparated to Elizabeth’s laundry. She verified that she would be unobserved and made herself visible again.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Anderson,” said Elizabeth. “Do you have wash for me?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wohlfort,” said Queenie. “No, no clothes to wash. Please sit down; I have some very bad news.”

“My children; has something happened to my children?” she asked not realizing that Mahalia had used her married name.

“No, your children are fine,” said Queenie, handing her the newspaper as she sat down.

Elizabeth saw a picture of her husband on the front page. She went pale as she read the article beneath the picture:

Three days ago, William Wohlfort, a former engineer at Westinghouse in Lester, Pennsylvania booked passage on a freighter bound for Buenos Aires. Two days ago at 10:15pm William took a 20 pound dumbbell and a revolver from his trunk; walked to the ship’s rail and without a word climbed over and stepped into the dark. Two other passengers and one crewman witnessed Mr. Wohlfort’s suicide and heard first the sound of the gun firing and then the splash of his body.

The crewman quickly threw a marker buoy overboard and ran to inform the helmsman. Even with the quick reaction of the crewman, it still took over an hour for the ship to return to the marker buoy. There was no sign of Mr. Wohlfort’s body.

A search of Mr. Wohlfort’s cabin reveled the following suicide note:
I have a memory of being happy once. No, not a memory, just a feeling that once I had a family and I was happy. I know that I once loved my work. I don’t any more. There seems no purpose to it. I have no past; I have no future; I have no purpose—no joy. The saddest part is that there is no one to miss me when I am gone; although, I feel there should be.
Good bye,
William Wohlfort

Queenie was deep in Elizabeth’s mind and when the shock and sorrow began to turn to hate and rage, Queenie bound her to her chair so she could not apparate and said, “Your William is safe. This story is a ruse for the benefit of Maitland and the MACUSA. I have met you many times before. I will now restore your memories of those meetings so that you will know. Then I will release you.”

Queenie took the pensieve from her shoulder bag and returned Elizabeth’s memories to her.

“You explained everything to me and the children last Saturday when we visited Ilvermorny,” said Elizabeth. “But I remembered nothing until now.”

“I had to tell you so that you would understand what I was doing,” said Queenie. “I had to remove your memory of much of what we discussed because you were being questioned under veritas serum.”

“You did the same for George and Annie,” said Elizabeth.

“Yes, I did,” said Queenie. “Removing short term memories is easy and safe; not like trying to remove long established memories of intense emotion—very difficult—very dangerous.”

“But why did you put me through such torture?” asked Elizabeth.

“I could have restored your memories first and explained about the ruse to deceive the MACUSA,” said Queenie. “But I—we—thought that you should feel the evil that was done to you; experience the sorrow, the hatred, the rage that you would have felt had the MACUSA succeeded. It was the only way, we thought, that you would fully appreciate the danger.

“But we must go now. Your children will be waiting by the pine.

“Change into the clothes I have brought for you and Calvin. Maitland put a tracking potion on your clothing. Take nothing but your wand. That cannot be tracked; it will on its own repel the tracking potion.”

When Elizabeth and Calvin were dressed, Queenie took a padlock portkey out of her shoulder bag and they portkeyed to the mountain top overlooking Ilvermorny. They then portkeyed to the solitary pine to find George and Annie waiting.

George was about to question when Queenie said, “No questions now. I will explain everything when you are safe in England.”

With that they all hooked their fingers into the shackle of the padlock and portkeyed to the mountain top overlooking Ilvermorny. Taking another portkey from her bag, made for this occasion, they portkeyed to the living room of their father’s house in England.

“Dad!” exclaimed Annie. “You’re alive. Mommy said you were killed.”

“Yes, I’m alive,” said William. “A very able wizard protected me.”

“You’re father and mother will explain,” said Queenie. “But first I must restore your memories and get a snip of your mother’s hair.”

Once Queenie had restored the memories of George and Annie and gained a snip of Elizabeth’s hair, she portkeyed out and left it to William to tell them of their new name and explain all that had happened to him.

Again in Elizabeth’s laundry room, Queenie sent a message to Jacob: All Royers are safe with Amos. See you in half an hour after I have finished the laundry.

Jacob’s relief was palpable. He thought to himself: Beloved, if you are in my mind now, you need to leave so you can focus on the mission. I will have coco for you when you are my Queenie again.

Queenie saw his thoughts and left Jacob’s mind to focus on finishing Elizabeth's cleaning, and restoring and packaging all the original clothes for return to the residents and hotel. She packed all of Elizabeth’s and Calvin’s clothes also, and set them aside for later. She would be back to put the MACUSA in motion. Now, it was time for coco.

“It’s so good to be back,” said Queenie taking the coco from Jacob and setting it on the table. “Back with you, back in your arms.”

“No, Jacob,” she said. “Do not worry. I know that Maitland has one of his obliviators watching Elizabeth’s movements on a tracking map. I have set Elizabeth’s dress to move about her laundry room. I have done the same for Calvin’s shirt and trousers which were also being tracked. There will be no unnatural stillness to alert Maitland.”

“I do not like just waiting,” said Jacob. “I wish there was more I could do to back you up.”

“But you have done so much,” said Queenie. “Every step I have taken after I first preserved William’s memories was your ‘recipe.’ “

“I know,” said Jacob. “Go now. Change and go inform Elizabeth’s manager and go to Ilvermorny; finish the transfer and come back to me before you put Maitland into motion.”

“I know,” said Queenie. “You don’t need to tell me. And yes, I will leave your mind as I leave you; I will maintain my focus.”

Jacob was silent as she changed into a copy of Elizabeth’s clothes and prepared the polyjuice to become Elizabeth. She could see his thoughts as he reviewed in detail the next steps she would take. She arranged her hair to completely conceal her diadem. Then, she was gone; back in Elizabeth’s laundry room.

Queenie, now appearing as Elizabeth informed the manager of the Hotel Bellaclaire that she would be leaving his employ and all laundry was ready for the hotel maids to pick up. The sudden unexpected departure was made somewhat less onerous when she said that he could keep her last pay. Of course, the mild use of the imperious curse helped him to find her offer quite acceptable and her command, to not go to the laundry or speak of her leaving for another hour, quite normal.

Only fifteen minutes had past since she had become Elizabeth. Quickly, Queenie walked into the lady’s room, disillusioned herself and portkeyed into Ilvermorny. Still disillusioned, she sought out the Headmaster.

The students were still meandering into the dining hall, although most were already seated. As the last students who had chosen to eat lunch were seated, the Headmaster gave the signal for the house elves who were gathered with their carts to begin serving.

Queenie removed the disillusionment spell and walked up to the Headmaster.

“Headmaster Lewis, I wish to speak with you privately,” said Queenie. “I must inform you of what I have done. I also have a few very important requests to make.”

“I think I can guess, Mrs. Wohlfort,” said the Headmaster. “I did not see George and Annie come for lunch. You have taken them, haven’t you?”

“I have,” said Queenie, breathing heavily. “My husband is dead, actually dead. They botched William’s obliviation. Maitland is as incompetent as he is arrogant!”

Taking a pause to catch her breadth she handed a copy of the newspaper to Headmaster Lewis. “I would ask that you not speak of this. I expect that Maitland or one of his flunkies will visit you in the near future. He must soon realize that I have gone. They keep a close watch on me. Just confirm that George and Annie are not here. Let him wonder. I must get them safely away before Maitland realizes that he can no longer coerce my cooperation.

“I have two favors to ask. First, I would like to gather George and Annie’s clothes and things, and I would very much like to get a copy of their end of term exams so that I can properly test them and know where they stand. I took them before exams so that Maitland would think that he still had time to act—time to grab them. I am sure he will come for them as soon as he realizes that William is actually dead.”

“I will see to getting you the exams, myself,” said Headmaster Lewis as he summoned a house elf to take Mrs. Wohlfort to gather her children’s possessions.

When Queenie had shrunk the children’s things and put them in her shoulder bag, she returned to meet with Headmaster Lewis.

“I wish you well, Mrs. Wohlfort,” said the Headmaster. “When you are settled, please write and let me know how you are doing and how George and Annie are doing.”

“We tried to live a quiet, peaceful life and we succeeded until Maitland and his gang of obliviators descended upon us and destroyed everything. I’m afraid it will be some time before I feel fit to write. I will keep us deep in hiding. I won’t be in contact with other witches and wizards. I do not know when it will be safe to emerge. I must stay away. I must give my children a chance.”

Queenie did not have to fake her feelings. The disgust she felt at Maitland’s actions and Picquery’s approval was made manifest in her expression.

“I do understand,” said the Headmaster, visibly alarmed by what he saw in Elizabeth’s face. “Perhaps better than you know. I am here if you need anything. You are not the first to suffer so. I know it will be hard, but try to not act precipitously; give yourself time to heal.”

“Precipitously!” retorted an animated Queenie loud enough to draw attention from some nearby students. “From the moment Maitland first revealed himself and his intentions I planned carefully, meticulously how I would recover our lives and bring William back to us. I actually looked forward to reliving his courtship of me, even as he learned about what had been done to him.

“Maitland destroyed everything. I was prepared to start over again with William; I never imagined that his obliviators would botch the job so badly as to leave enough residual memory in William that he would descend into such a deep despair and kill himself.

“Yes Headmaster, I will heal, but the hatred I feel will only grow. I will never allow this evil man a breath forgiveness.”

Thanking Headmaster Lewis for his offer and understanding, Queenie turned and walked away a few steps before she disillusioned herself and used the padlock portkey to portkey to the prominence overlooking Ilvermorny. A quick look back before she removed the disillusionment spell and she was back with Jacob.

Jacob said nothing. Queenie simply kissed him, and apparated to Elizabeth’s laundry room where she picked up the two suitcases with Elizabeth’s and Calvin’s clothes and portkeyed to the solitary pine on the Ilvermorny grounds.

She walked away from the pine toward the gardens of winding paths, streams and ponds, and secret vine covered alcoves. The azaleas were just coming into bloom. She thought that she would have to show Jacob after they were settled and she could do it without bring any unwanted attention down upon them. She disappeared all the clothing except for one of Elizabeth’s coats that had the tracking potion on it. She left it neatly folded on an old wooden bench beside a small waterfall and flowing stream. She then portkeyed to the overlook and took one last look at Ilvermorny before she portkeyed into Amos Royer’s living room.

Looking at Elizabeth’s astonished children, she said, “Polyjuice potion.”

“Are you Mahalia?” asked Elizabeth.

“I am and I am not,” said Queenie. “Everything is still in motion. It will be a few weeks before I and my husband settle in England. We will invite you over and reveal everything.”

“I never learned the name of the man who helped me,” said William. “Was he your husband?”

“No, he was someone else,” said Queenie. “Again, polyjuice potion. There are more than just me involved.”

Suddenly George interrupted, “Did you really make a portkey out of a gun? Can I see it?”

“It was the wizard who worked with your father who made the portkey out of a gun,” said Queenie. “He needed a portkey so that your father could portkey to the ship’s stern and not actually fall in the water. A gun fit with the suicide act that your father was putting on. And no, you may not see it.”

“But why did this wizard have to stay in the cabin with Dad?” asked Annie. “Why didn’t he just apparate into his cabin when Dad was ready to jump into the water?”

“The ship was in constant motion,” said Queenie. “It is always problematic to apparate to a place that is always changing position. It can be done with a special portkey, but that would require making a portkey destination of something in the cabin so that he would always go to that place no matter where it was. Doing so would be complicated. We wanted simple.

“And it gave him time to discuss our plans with your father. Mostly, he remained disillusioned while he was there so he would not have to continuously use the polyjuice potion.

“Which reminds me; I must be off before my current polyjuice session wears off. Your father can fill you in on all that was done. He knows everything. Just get used to your new names and stay away from the magical community. I will see you in a few weeks and we can meet with professor Dumbledore about your end of year exams and integrating Elizabeth Royer and her children into the magical community of England.”

Taking her leave, Queenie was back with Jacob waiting for the polyjuice potion to wear off.

Chapter 15: Chapter XV - Panic
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XV

Agrona Davis drummed her fingers on the desk. She was impatient. She wanted to get on with grabbing the Wohlfort children. “But no, I must sit here and look at this map,” she said to herself glancing disdainfully at the map on the wall, that tracked Elizabeth Wohlfort as she moved about in her laundry room. “What a waste. The book of residue tracks will alert me when she moves more than 50 feet in any direction. I will know when and where she goes as soon as she does anything.”

Agrona suddenly stopped her carping and snapped her head around to look at the map. Elizabeth’s tracks were not at the hotel. She was not even in New York. She was about to call Maitland when she stopped and flipped through the residue book to find when Elizabeth had moved out of the hotel. She had to know when before she notified Maitland.

“It’s been ten minutes,” she said to herself. “The alarm didn’t go…”

It was then that the residue book began to emit a high pitched whistle. It was then that she called a house elf to her and told him to find auror Maitland. With that done, she pulled out the larger map of Northeastern United States to identify where she might have gone. She thought that Elizabeth might have gone to Ilvermorny. Where else would she go? She was right, and Elizabeth was still there.

It was then that Maitland popped into her office, brought by the house elf.

“What was so urgent, that you had to have me dragged here?” demanded Maitland.

“Elizabeth Wohlfort has left the hotel,” she said. “She left ten minutes—no, fifteen minutes ago, now.”

“So, where has she gone? To the park again?” asked Maitland.

“No, she has left New York,” said Agrona. “She went to Ilvermorny. She is there now. If she takes her children, we may have trouble finding them again.”

“We can always track her,” said Maitland, trying to remain calm before his subordinate but beginning to feel a rising apprehension over Wohlfort’s unexpected disappearance. “But I suppose we should check on it. Bring the tracking map. We will see what she is up to.”

They each apparated to the front gate of Ilvermorny where they were confronted by the elderly house elf, Stabilis, who prevented their entry.

“Master and mistress not parent,” said the house elf. “What purpose?”

“I am Auror Maitland on urgent business to see the Headmaster,” said Maitland as he began to walk through the gate only to have Stabilis stop him and freeze him stiff where he stood.

“Gentle Mistress, Stabilis not want trouble. Stabilis call Headmaster Lewis. Headmaster Lewis say,” said Stabilis before he took down the blower to speak into the voice tube and relate the incident at the gate to Headmaster Lewis.

“Headmaster come,” said Stabilis. “Headmaster say. Gentle Mistress wait.”

Agrona didn’t know what to do, but she did not mind waiting for the Headmaster; it was not she who was frozen in place.

Immediately upon arriving, Headmaster Lewis addressed himself to Agrona, “Well Agrona, Mr. Maitland seems to be in some difficulty. Stabilis, you did well. Release Mr. Maitland and return to your work. I will take things from here.”

Stabilis did and before Maitland could compose himself enough to complain about the fact that a house elf had dared to restrict him, the Headmaster asked, “Why are you here?”

“We believe that Elizabeth Wohlfort has come and may try to take her children,” said a somewhat breathless Maitland.

“And why is that a concern of MACUSA aurors?”

“She is on parole and may not travel about freely,” said Maitland. “Has she been here?”

“She has,” replied Headmaster Lewis. “She was here just a few minutes before you arrived. You must be keeping a very close watch on her. She is gone now.”

“The map shows the location and that she is still here,” put in Agrona.

“Oh, you’re using a tracking pin or potion,” commented Headmaster Lewis, volunteering nothing else.

“We need to find her before she actually leaves,” said Maitland.

“If you must; I will accompany you,” said the Headmaster.

“That isn’t necessary,” said Maitland, not wanting any interference in his pursuit or in what actions he might have to take against Elizabeth Wohlfort.”

“It is necessary,” replied the Headmaster. “I will not have my students intimidated by your pursuit.

“But, before we begin, perhaps you would tell me of Elizabeth’s violation that warrants her being tracked and pursued. I saw nothing in her manner that would even hint that she might be a danger to anyone. She has visited numerous times to be with her children and reassure them after their father’s tragic death.”

“I am afraid that her offense is confidential,” said Maitland. “I am not permitted to say.”

“As you say,” said Headmaster Lewis, reaching for the map. “If you will allow me to see her location, I will take you to her immediately.”

Looking at the map that Agrona handed to him, the Headmaster said, “I see, she appears to be just over the rise.”

Handing the map back to Agrona, he grasped her arm and Maitland’s and apparated to the spot shown on the map.

Astonished, Agrona said, “I did not know that we could apparate within the Ilvermorny grounds.”

“You can’t; I can,” said Headmaster Lewis, looking around. “I don’t seem to see her. Are you sure your map is correct?”

“She’s here!” said Maitland, beginning to panic. “She must be.”

Taking out what appeared to be a small stick, the size of a fountain pen, with a tiny bulb that glowed a flickering pale orange, Maitland held it out and pivoted slowly in a circle until the tiny bulb glowed a bright red.

Agrona immediately drew her wand, exclaiming, “She’s over there!”

She had no sooner taken a step then it was she who was now frozen in place, in the midst of taking a second step. Out of balance she toppled to the ground. Maitland was about to draw his own wand when he saw Agrona’s float into the Headmaster’s hand.

“Headmaster Lewis, we hunt a dangerous criminal,” said Maitland, knowing that he had to convince the headmaster of the urgency his actions. He knew that he could not overcome a wizard as powerful as Lewis; Lewis held no wand of his own.

“Cassian Maitland, you will not prowl the grounds of Ilvermorny with your wand at the ready,” said Headmaster Lewis. “I have accepted your explanation that the reasons for this hunt are confidential, but unless you can convince me that Elizabeth Wohlfort is so dangerous so as to be a threat to my students, you will proceed without wands in hand. In fact, I want you to surrender your own wand to me now before I allow you to proceed. This garden area, with its waterfall and streams, is a favorite place some of the older students find convenient for a discrete bit of canoodling.

“Your wand, please; or if you prefer, an explanation of Elizabeth Wohlfort’s horrific crimes.”

Maitland hesitated only a moment. He knew that he had to accede to the headmaster’s demands. Lewis would never accept that Wohlfort was a danger to his students because she married a no-mag. He handed the Headmaster his wand.

“I will accompany you,” said Headmaster Lewis, releasing Agrona.

It was soon obvious, when they saw the neatly folded coat, that Elizabeth was not at Ilvermorny; or if she were she had removed her tracking clothing. If that was the case, she could be anywhere.

“Headmaster Lewis, are the Wohlfort children still here?” asked Maitland. “I would like to speak with them—ask them if they had seen their mother today.”

“Hmm, I have not seen them since breakfast,” said Headmaster Lewis. “They had not entered for lunch with the other children. But then not all the children eat lunch. As I said, some take the opportunity to be alone and do a little sparking. Although, George and Annie are a bit young for that sort of activity.

“Is there anything else?”

“We should find the children,” interjected Agrona. “We can take them with us for questioning.”

Maitland knew that this was the wrong thing to say to the Headmaster. He was left without any doubt at Lewis’ response.

“That will not happen,” said Headmaster Lewis sternly. “Stabilis, come to me.”

When the elf appeared at the Headmaster’s side, he said, handing Stabilis the two wands, “Stabilis, escort Cassian Maitland and Agrona Davis off the grounds of Ilvermorny. Return their wands to them when they have left.”

“What now, sir?” asked Agrona as they stood watching Stabilis pass back through the great stone arch that was the gate to Ilvermorny.

Maitland seemed to not hear her. He was not concerned with what step to take next. He was slowly becoming reconciled to the very real possibility that Elizabeth Wohlfort had escaped him, had fled and taken her children.

“Should we grab her husband?” asked Agrona. “Maybe if we let it be known that we had him…”

“No, check with her no-mag employer,” said Maitland. “See if we can verify that she has actually left before we do anything else.”

“Do you think that there is a chance she is still here? If she is really gone, Picquery will have to be told.”

“I know, but we must be certain either way,” said Maitland. “Remember how carefully we observed her before we moved to take her. Nothing will be gained by flying off on a feather duster. Go and report back as soon as you have spoken to the no-mag hotel manager.

“You speak to no one about this, regardless of what you find. We have until next week, when she is due for her next ‘interview,’ before we will have to let Panty in on what has happened.“

“I know; you can count on me,” said Agrona, even as she desperately tried to figure out what to do. If Maitland was delaying reporting Wohlfort missing, he was planning something. We have been keeping too close a watch on her to wait a week. He—he’s looking for a scapegoat. Well, it won’t be me she thought.

Agrona went immediately to her office where she copied all the records and her notes regarding the watch on Wohlfort. It was only then that she apparated to Wohlfort’s laundry room, startling two maids and the manager of the hotel by her sudden appearance; she was compelled to obliviate their memories of her mistake and re-enter through the door.

“Good afternoon,” greeted Agrona. “I am looking for Elizabeth Wohlfort. I was told that she worked here.”

“Not anymore,” said the manager. “She resigned, only a few minutes ago and left; she didn’t even stay to pick up her last week’s pay.”

“That does not seem like her—to leave so suddenly,” commented Agrona. “She is usually very thoughtful of others and her obligations.”

“No, it’s not like her,” said the manager. “I will have to shift some of the maids to fill in for her until I can find someone to do the laundry. And yes, she is very mindful of her obligations to others. She finished all the cleaning she had to do and packaged it neatly before she left. We are just sorting it out to deliver to the residents.”

“Thank you,” said Agrona, before she turned and walked out the door and apparated to the Entering Chamber.

Back in her office, Agrona knew. There could be no doubt. Elizabeth Wohlfort had been meticulous in her planning. Nothing had been done on the spur of the moment. But how could she hide this when she was questioned under veritas serum?

If Maitland was planning to use her as his scapegoat, this would be her defense. She would report only that the manager had said that Elizabeth had resigned. She would keep quiet about her thoughts of Elizabeth’s meticulous planning. She would wait for Maitland to tell her what to do; she would volunteer nothing.

Agrona reported to Maitland what she had “learned.” She also brought all the notes and records of her watch on Wohlfort. He had access to these records anyway and she would lead him to her defense if he was of a mind to alter the record to cast blame on her.

But Agrona was wrong. Maitland was not thinking of using her as a scapegoat. He was not thinking at all. He was in a complete quandary as to what he could do. He had successfully oblivated mag/no-mag couples before, but this was his first failure with children at Ilvermorny—the first of anyone since Metaxas; he was the first failure. He let Agrona go with no instructions as to how she should proceed.

As Agrona was leaving, she said that the Magical Congress would be ending its working session soon.

“Huh,” responded a distracted Maitland. “Congress, session; that doesn’t matter. They don’t concern themselves over these day to day matters. It’s not as if Wohlfort obliviated anyone; she just escaped us.

“Wait, don’t go yet. Make a copy of your records and notes; a copy for yourself and a copy for me. We will bring the originals to Picquery and tell her what has happened. We will gain nothing by delaying; it will only make us look worse—as if we are trying to hide something. And this can’t be hidden. It’s better that we tell her, then she hear it from Panty.”

“And that, Madam President, is how things stand regarding Wohlfort,” said Maitland.

“And the husband?” asked Picquery. “Did she take her husband?”

“We were about to check on him,” said Maitland, recovering smoothly. He had not given a thought to her husband. “I thought it best to inform you before we continued to investigate. If Metaxas is the template, I suspect that she has taken him. We’ll go now. If he’s still here, we’ll keep a watch on him.”

It would be several hours before Maitland was back reporting to Picquery.

“William Wohlfort is gone,” said Maitland. “He sold his house last week. He has not been seen for over a week.”

“And you did not know this!” exclaimed Picquery. “You should have kept a closer watch on him. This failure is serious; it will not look good on your record.”

“It is not part of our procedure,” replied Maitland, knowing that Picquery was herself casting about for a scapegoat. “We will do so in the future.

“The problem is not slipshod performance on our part. Our records and recordings of the interrogations of Elizabeth Wohlfort prove our thoroughness.”

“Yes, your interrogations were thorough,” said Picquery, a bit calmer than before. “How was she able to deceive you? She must have had help.”

“She may have, although I cannot see how,” said Maitland. “She was tracked and observed where ever she went. She seldom apparated—only to the park with her son and to Ilvermorny to visit with her older children. Her parents disowned her when she married the no-mag and as far as we can tell she has had no contact with any witches or wizards other than us and those at Ilvermorny; unless you want to count Goldstein.”

“Goldstein! I thought she was in England with that Scamander fellow,” exclaimed Picquery, forgetting that Panty had already told her that she had met Queenie.

“No not the auror, Porpentina Goldstein,” replied Maitland. “Her sister Queenie Goldstein. She works for Abernathy. They met once when Wohlfort was leaving after an interrogation; Goldstein offered her son a pastry. It’s all in the records.”

“And Wohlfort didn’t say anything to Goldstein?” asked Picquery.

“No, just small talk about her children,” said Maitland. “We were watching; Her subsequent interrogations revealed that she hadn’t had any clandestine meeting with Goldstein or anyone else.

“Madam President, I think that we should change our procedures when children at Ilvermorny are involved. We should wait until the children are off the school grounds. We should make no move until the summer and they are home. We should grab them all at once and obliviate them all immediately at the same time.

”We might even require wand examination four times a year instead of just once—so we won’t have to wait a year for the second exam after first discovering a possible no-mag relationship. We catch most of the budding miscegenators early, before they marry and have children. Only a few like Wohlfort slip past us.”

He remembered the power of the witch who had summoned her wand and overcome him at the beginning of his first interrogation.

“Even then for some whom we cannot locate immediately, we must wait a full year before we can retrieve them,” he continued. “Quarterly wand examinations would eliminate that problem.”

“You are probably right about waiting until summer,” said Picquery. “We can implement such a policy immediately. However, as beneficial as quarterly examinations would be, I suspect that some members of congress would not go along with it and congressional approval would be needed for that change.”

“I thought about that,” said Maitland. “You could use the recent chaos caused by Grindelwald as an excuse. You will just have to figure out how best to present it.”

Chapter 16: Chapter XVI - Under The Ninefold Earth
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XVI
Under The Ninefold Earth

Queenie looked over the empty desks in the Wand Registrars office with an air of quiet satisfaction. She and Jacob were living in their stone cabin now. She had hoped that she would have made a better start on their house in this week since she was able to reunite Elizabeth and William, but there was so much else to do. She had managed to get Mr. Abernathy to agree that she come in even earlier. She was at her desk by 4:00am and left at 10:00am. She thought that this would give her time in the morning to work with Jacob as he finished his morning baking. She had created the portkey container that would transport his bread and pastries from Scotland into a truck in Manhattan for delivery. But she found that she was doing too much; she was exhausted. So, today she slept until 8:30am before she rose to portkey to her apartment and come to work. But soon, soon she thought; soon she would take Lady Caro and Mr. Zelos away to Scotland and they would begin building the house Jacob envisioned.

She had finished her work for the day—there really wasn’t much to do. She noticed that the elves were about. Soon Mr. Abernathy would arrive. She would wait until the end of her shift to tell him. She had told Mr. Zelos what she would do. He and Lady Caro would continue their work until the end of the week, but also be ready to leave should there be any problem. They had both been to their stone cabin. She had expanded a room in the cabin for them.

She didn’t expect any problems. She would use her Legilimency on Panty as he was often about. She had not seen Maitland, and Abernathy thought nothing of being told that Elizabeth would not be having her wand inspected weekly. He was in fact relieved that he no longer had to personally examine her wand.

Lady Caro had told her that the congress was no longer in session and she didn’t have much work.

It was not long after Abernathy arrived that Panty showed up. He knew that Elizabeth had disappeared with her children and that William was no more to be found. His routine of questioning people while subtly placing them under the imperious curse returned to what it was before he was charged with witnessing Elizabeth’s interrogations. Queenie did not have to be a Legilimens to see that he was more on edge than he had been. Today he did not meander about the many desks of the clerks; he went directly to Abernathy’s office, and Queenie went directly into his mind.

She did not have to go deep. Panty’s orders lay on the surface for even the most inexperienced Legilimens to discover. And, as was his want, he began with pleasantries as he grasped the wand in his pocket and cursed Mr. Abernathy with the imperious curse to lessen any resistance he might harbor.

“Things are fine, Ruggero,” said Abernathy. “Now that our work is no longer interrupted by the Wohlfort affair—everything is back to normal.”

“Yes, I also am glad to be free of that headache,” said Panty. “But steady yourself. I have it on good authority that you will soon be required to examine all wands on a quarterly basis.”

“What!” retorted Abernathy, breaking the mild imperious curse. “I am short handed as it is, what with Goldstein only working half days so she can visit her sister in England.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘on good authority?’ “ said Abernathy. “Whose authority?”

“Seraphina Picquery,” said Panty, desperately attempting to regain imperious control over Abernathy. “She wanted me to warn you, give you a heads up, so that you would be ready.”

A now calm unconcerned Abernathy said, “I suppose I could call in all those due for inspection in the next three months for inspection now, and call in those due in the following three months for inspection next month and so on. I will definitely need more people and more money—and more space.

“When is this to happen?”

“President Picquery is convening a special session of congress two days from now, when the representatives return for the closing formalities,” said Panty.

“Oh well, that’s her prerogative,” said a resigned Abernathy. “I will either get what I need or I won’t. Tell President Picquery that she will have her system of quarterly inspections in a few days. Whether it is successful or not will depend on whether I get the resources I need.”

“One more thing,” said Panty, intensifying his imperious curse to be sure of Abernathy’s compliance, “You will have to do this alone. It is vital that no one knows. She does not want any resistance developing before she can present her case.”

“Yes, yes,” said Abernathy. “You better go now. I have a lot of work to do.”

Before Panty left, Queenie saw that he heard Abernathy call for Mr. Zelos. Mr. Zelos came to him because she had ordered him to come to those MACUSA witches and wizards who called. To do otherwise would raise questions. Now she had questions.

Her note to Jacob read: In your mind; Panty used imperio; Picquery ordered Abernathy to prepare for quarterly wand inspections—advise.

She could see Jacob dive into the problem. It always fascinated her to see him identify essentials. Interesting development—not anticipated—not urgent—Wohlforts safe, unaffected—proceed as planned—get Abernathy to tell you everything—use pastries and coco as obvious bribe—lace with potion pair—tell Abernathy that you think Panty uses imperious curse—describe feelings—We will discuss what to do, if anything, when we have time to be alone together. Oh, wait wait. Be prepared to portkey out with Lady Caro and Mr. Zelos if any danger arrises. I will see you soon, my beloved.

Queenie sent a second note: I will be prepared, beloved. And yes, I will message you as soon as I know more.

Queenie walked to the entry chamber and apparated to her apartment. She then portkeyed to their stone cabin where Jacob was waiting with a large assortment of pastries, and coco on the stove. She kissed him hello and retrieved the calming draft and veritas serum. It was Jacob’s suggestion to use them together, and when they had tested the combination, they discovered that each enhanced the other, with the calming draft making the veritas serum less of an assault and the veritas serum adding relief through the unburdening of a secret.

With a basket of pastries and coco in a Thermos bottle, Queenie used the return portkey to return to her apartment from which she apparated to the entry chamber. Back at her desk after having laid out a spread of pastries for the office, she poured two cups of coco, stirred the potions into the cup destined for Abernathy, and prepared a small tray of pastries.

When she entered Abernathy’s office with the tray of pastries and coco, she also entered his mind. She noticed Mr. Zelos pushing his cart piled high with papers over to the files. Abernathy was copying a wizard’s name and a date to a card which he floated to a tray of cards, inserting it into the middle of the tray. Knowing what Panty had told him, she assumed that he was arranging the witches and wizards by date of last wand examination. She saw that she was right.

It was Mr Abernathy who spoke first, “Ah, Goldstein, you must want something. All right, you know that can always be bribed with pastries.”

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy, it is a bribe of sorts,” said Queenie. “But just to ease what I have to say. You have been so understanding and gracious, letting me work half days so that I can visit my sister in England; it’s difficult for me to say.”

Pausing to take a breath, she spoke rapidly, “Tina, my sister, has invited me to come stay with her. She has been working with Newt Scamander and his magical creatures, and Newt said he could find a place for me at their Ministry of Magic, and it would be such a great adventure, and…and I find it always easier to say things like this with coco and pastries.”

“It’s all right, Miss Goldstein,” said Abernathy with a bit of a sigh. “I will miss having you here, but I will have to be hiring many more soon. So don’t fret; you won’t be leaving me in a lurch.”

“Oh, what is going to happen?” asked Queenie.

“I can’t say,” said Abernathy, reaching for a pastry.

“It’s that Panty, isn’t it,” said Queenie. “I saw him leaving earlier. Well, have some coco. It will help.”

Abernathy took a drink of coco and sat back in his chair, calm in his breathing and relaxed in his posture.

Queenie could see in his mind that he was much less tense. She started with a simple question. “There now, isn’t that better?”

“Much better,” said Abernathy.

“I don’t like that Panty,” she said. “He always makes me feel uneasy. He’s always asking personal questions. I don’t even know why he comes to our department.”

Then whispering, she said, “I think he uses the imperious curse on people to get them to answer his questions. I always feel as if I don’t have any cares at all when he asks me questions. I try to stay away from him.”

She had made the suggestion and she could see him thinking about his own feelings earlier when Panty come into his office. She saw his rising anger develop into a calm hatred of what Panty had done to him.

“Mr. Abernathy, I came to tell you that I was quitting and say that I would take my leave at the end of the week, but if you are in a bind and I can help, I will do so; at least for a while. Would you like my help with what you are doing?”

“I would,” said Abernathy. “But what I am doing is a secret.”

“I would not tell anyone,” said Queenie. “You have been so nice to me; I would never do anything to hurt you. If you tell me, we can work out a way for me to do the work without anyone knowing. Will that be all right with you?”

“Yes, I would like that,” said Abernathy, sincerely appreciative of Queenie’s kind words and her offer to help. “Picquery wants wands to be examined four times a year. We need to arrange the names of each witch and wizard in sequence by their last wand examination date so we can be ready for when the new law is in effect.”

“Oh, I see, you are copying the names and dates to cards so that you can sort them,” said Queenie. “When do you think that this new law will be in place?”

“President Picquery will convene the congress in two days when they return for the closing ceremonies,” said Abernathy. “I would like to be ready by then.”

“Do you think that you will be ready in two days?” asked Queenie.

“Not at the rate that I am going; even with Zelos doing all the retrieving and refiling of the files while I copy names onto cards and sort them,” said Abernathy.

Queenie sipped her coco as she gave the appearance of thinking about the problem. “It seems that you have too much to do. If Mr. Zelos were to bring the files for me to copy onto cards and then bring the cards back to you for sorting, we could be doing it twice as fast. Even with Mr. Zelos apparating from here to my apartment and back, he would still have time to return to refile what he brought back while I copied the names of the second batch onto cards. Do you think that that would work?”

“I do, but why would you be in your apartment?” asked Abernathy. “It would be faster if you were to do it here.”

“It might, but it would be more likely that I would be discovered helping you,” said Queenie. “It is the copying and sorting that takes the time. Mr. Zelos’ apparating and filing would be done while we are copying and sorting. It shouldn’t take much longer if it takes any longer at all.”

“All right, you’ve convinced me,” said Abernathy.

“Good, I will take Mr. Zelos to my apartment so that he will know where it is, then he can pop back here,” said Queenie.

“Mr. Zelos, grab a bundle of files for me to copy and apparate me to the entry chamber. Then I will take you to my apartment.“

Back in her apartment with Mr. Zelos, Queenie took a good look at several of the files. They had marriage status and some had addresses as well as wand information.

“Mr. Zelos, when you are back to retrieve files, I want you to secretly retrieve all the files that Mr. Abernathy has already copied,” said Queenie. “Don’t let anyone see you doing this. I will make copies of the entire file for myself. No one must know this.”

“Zelos does,” he said as he popped back to Abernathy’s office to retrieve another batch of files.

As 10:00am approached, Queenie had Mr. Zelos take her to Abernathy’s office.

“Mr. Abernathy, for the last week, I have been arriving at 4:00am,” said Queenie. “If you will permit it, Mr. Zelos and I can begin work on the files and have a big batch of cards ready for you to sort when you arrive. We might just finish everything tomorrow and you will be ready for when the new wand examination rules are put into place.”

“Go ahead,” said Abernathy. “I will still have to more than double the staff.

“I don’t know where I would be without your help. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“Oh no, I must go; the world awaits me,” said Queenie, joyously—almost laughing.

“You will be fine,” she added softly. “But be careful if you decide to expose Panty. He is devious and I feel vindictive.”

Queenie, back with Jacob, showed him the files she had copied and told him of everything she had done and that she and Mr. Zelos would begin tomorrow at 1:30am to copy the rest of the files.

“Do you think that these files will be of use?” asked Jacob.

“I do,” replied Queenie. “At the very least, we can know which witches and wizards are married to which wizards and witches, and eliminate them from our pool of possible no-mag marriages.”

“So you are resigned to going forward now to attack Rappaport’s Law?” asked Jacob. “Let me think about this while you go off to Slug and Jiggers. Set it out of your mind for the next few hours.”

“You don’t think that I should try to prevent this?” asked Queenie.

“I don’t know,” said Jacob. “Knowing what can be done is one thing; acting is another. Let me think about it for a while; let me be alone in my own mind so I can consider this and you can focus on your potion making.”

Queenie had finished her last potion for the day and was about to leave for her lesson with Bob Holden when her watch band began to vibrate. Taking the note from Jacob, she read: Having thoughts. If you agree, we must move fast. We have a lot to do in a very short time.

Queenie did move quickly. She immediately went to Jacob’s mind. She went pale at what she saw. She did not agree. She did not bother to reply to Jacob. She went first to Bob Holden and told him that something had come up and she could not take her lesson that night.

Jacob greeted her with coco when she arrived. “I thought that you might come home first.”

“I’ve already told Bob that I won’t take a lesson tonight,” she said. “I can’t do this. It’s too dangerous. I can’t do it.”

“It is dangerous,” said Jacob. “But it is also an opportunity to strike at them in a way that they will not expect—to put them off their stride. Everything you have been doing has been dangerous. They still don’t know that we exist. We still have the advantage.”

“But this is different,” replied a desperate Queenie. “You will be putting yourself right into their grasp. I should be the one, not you.”

“You know that that is not true,” said Jacob calmly. “Your advantage is that they do not know they have an enemy in you. Your advantage has always been that they did not know you as their enemy. You loose that the moment they see you.

“It is not as if we are an army with vast resources. You cannot confront them directly and win. You are strong only because you can strike unseen. The moment you are seen, you loose all your strength.”

“But what you want of me,” pleaded Queenie. “How can I do that?”

“Because, you can,” said Jacob, taking Queenie in his arms and speaking softly into her ear. “Only you can do this. You know how. You have done it all before. You will not hurt me; you know that. And I would not trust anyone else.

“They cannot harm me. They will not consider me a threat. Their hubris and their general distain for no-mags will be my protection. You, on the other hand—they would execute you as they tried to do with Newt and Tina. It is you whom they would fear. I am nothing to them, just a delivery boy. It must be me. You must continue to lie concealed ‘under the ninefold earth’ so that you can strike ‘from above the ninefold heavens.’(1) ”

Jacob waited holding his beloved as she held him. Finally she straightened, kissed him, and disentangled herself from his arms.

“It’s so hard for me—but you are right,” she said as she continued to search his mind. “It must be you. And yes, I would sorely regret holding you back from making this strike.

“We need to plan. But just preliminarily. I will have to consult my library. I have an early day tomorrow and you still have to bake. We each need our sleep.”

Abernathy arrived at work earlier than was normal for him, determined to get an early start and put an end to this special problem. The office was silent—still. None of the clerks had arrived. When he entered his office, he saw Queenie asleep at his desk with Mr. Zelos apparently asleep in the corner.

Prodding Mr. Zelos, not wanting to disturb Queenie, he asked quietly, “Zelos, what is going on here?”

“Midnight, Mistress Queenie call Zelos,” said Mr. Zelos quietly. “Mistress Queenie finish copies. Mistress Queenie tell Zelos, bring here. Mistress Queenie finish; put card in box. Mistress Queenie sleep. Zelos wait. Zelos watch.”

“It would seem that you also were tired,” said Abernathy. “You did well.”

Touching Queenie’s shoulder, Abernathy gently stirred her awake. “Queenie, wake up. Zelos told me what you did; thank you.”

“Oh, Mr. Abernathy, I didn’t know,” said Queenie, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Did anyone see me? I wanted to leave before anyone came. I just needed to rest my head for a moment.”

“No, Queenie,” replied Abernathy. “It’s still well before when the others will arrive. You must not have been asleep for long.”

Queenie was unsteady as she tried to stand. “Oh, I don’t feel well.” She sat back down in Abernathy’s chair.

“It’s all right,” said Abernathy. “You just need to catch up on your sleep. You have already worked a full day—more than a full day if you count what you have actually accomplished. Zelos can take you to your apartment. You will soon be your old self once you get some rest.”

“Yes that might be best,” said Queenie as she held out her hand for Mr. Zelos. “Would it be all right if I called Mr. Zelos to me tomorrow, if I’m not feeling well enough to come to work? That way he could tell you and you would know right away.”

“Of course you may,” said Abernathy. “Just get yourself a good rest now. Take what time you need.”

Back in her apartment, Queenie said, “Mr. Zelos, I will be with Jacob, preparing for tomorrow. You must be well rested also. You will need to be alert tomorrow. Try to get some sleep when you can, without others knowing.”

“Zelos does, Mistress Queenie,” said Mr. Zelos. “Zelos sleep work. Zelos ready.”


1. Sun Tzu, “IV Dispositions (7.),” in The Art of War, trans. Samuel B. Griffith (New York: Oxford University Press, 1963), 85.

Chapter 17: Chapter XVII - MACUSA in Session
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XVII
MACUSA in Session

Seraphina Picquery rose to address the assembled representatives who were the MACUSA. Panty sat next to her, sipping his tea. Speaking with the authority of her office, she said, “It has come to my attention that we are witnessing a steady rise in criminal activity within the magical community since Grindelwald was unmasked. Whatever else he may have done, he did keep the criminal element under control. I feel it imperative that we increase our surveillance so as to improve our chance of identifying any infractions of the law as soon as possible.”

“Madam President,” interrupted the representative from the Great Plains territory. “This is not the proper time to introduce new laws. We are about to adjourn for the summer and we have not had time to consider new legislation. And if you will recall, we have already authorized Maitland to recruit more witches and wizards to the ranks of the aurors.”

Picquery had expected this. She smiled as she took a sip from her tea, confident that she would win. Those from the Great Plains, and the Rocky Mountain, and South West territories often resisted new legislation. But they were too few and could not block anything if she could convince those from New England and the Mid-Atlantic territories where over half the wizarding population resided.

“You make a valid point, Mr. Griswold,” said Picquery, setting her cup down with a slight bang, as if she were gaveling Mr. Griswold into his seat. “However, the increased numbers will not have the desired effect without the needed tools at their disposal, as you so accurately pointed out during the debate about whether we should or should not increase the numbers of aurors.

“Our one most basic tool for effective surveillance by the aurors is the annual wand registration. It is through wand examination that we are able to notice criminal trends and begin close surveillance of the suspect.

“I propose that we require wand examinations four times a year.”

“What!” exclaimed Clement Griswold who had remained standing. “It’s bad enough that we have to come to New York once a year to have our wands examined. No one will comply with such a decree.”

“I further propose that we establish a number of wand examination centers in each territory so that no one will have to come to New York at all, if he doesn’t want to.”

The issue was broached. This was Jacob's signal to proceed. Queenie let go of his hand and removed the disillusionment spell, but no one noticed the small figure appear in the back of the room and begin to walk toward the center table from which invited guests would speak to address the representatives sitting to either side. It was the strike of the cane on the wooden floor that first alerted them to what they took to be a dark apparition. This was enough to silence the members who were each trying to make some point or another.

That apparition was a short woman dressed in black. She wore a mourning dress from a time past. Her skirt fell to the floor. From a black hat with a black feather, a heavy veil fell to her waist. None could see her face. She wore black gloves. Not a single spot of skin nor strand of hair could be seen. They did not know what they were facing. Their fear was evident in their expressions.

Placing her cane against the table and a newspaper on top, she grasped the edge of the table as if to steady herself and catch her breath. With heavy breathing she said, “You have heard the story. I come to tell you the truth. I come in mourning for William Wohlfort; I come to tell you the truth of Seraphina Picquery’s request.”

It was at this that Picquery leaned down to give Panty his orders, for she had no sooner spoken to him than hiding his wand he cast a stunning spell from his seat at the diminutive woman in mourning dress.

Queenie who was in the mind of Picquery knew that she would give the order to stun Jacob. She knew that her protections would stand up to the stunning spell; she waited for the fireworks.

The spell was scattered in a shower of sparks.

“I do wish you would not do that,” said the old woman somewhat breathlessly. “You have nothing to fear from me, and while I can protect myself to a certain extent, such aggressive actions are disruptive—and I am not young.”

She raised her hand toward Panty. This was the signal for Queenie to act. Immediately, Panty’s wand flew out of his hand, and high above their heads, in a loud crack, broke into two pieces which fell to the floor. Panty cowered in his seat, trying to make himself look smaller.

Once again steading herself with her hands on the table, the old woman said, “So, Seraphina Picquery, you would have these representatives not hear what I have to say. Perhaps you fear hearing the truth. Perhaps you fear discovering the truth. Perhaps you fear others learning how you have been using your position of authority!”

The old woman held her hand above the newspaper she had placed on the table—again a signal, this time to Mr. Zelos—and what was one paper was now 64 papers. Beckoning to the elves in attendance, she said, “Gentle elves, please distribute these newspapers to the officials in attendance and to anyone else who might want one.”

Then to the assembly, she said, “Please relax and take the time to read the front page article about the suicide of William Wohlfort. Pay particular attention to his last words.

“To put things into context, William Wohlfort was the husband of Elizabeth Wohlfort. If you have not guessed, Elizabeth is a witch and William was a no-mag.

“Everything about Seraphina Picquery’s request for increased wand examinations is the result of Elizabeth extracting herself from auror Maitland’s control and fleeing with her children after she saw this article in the paper. Before then, she believed Maitland’s lie that she and her children would be left with their memories as long as she could convince her children that their father had been killed when he was struck by a truck. Maitland even sent a Legilimens to verify that the children believed the story. Elizabeth Wohlfort complied with all of Maitland’s demands, thinking only to protect her children, knowing that her husband had been obliviated. But that was never the plan. It was always Maitland's plan to obliviate Elizabeth and her children. Panty knows! Don’t you Panty?”

Panty nodded that he did.

“Speak up Panty,” insisted the old woman. “Tell us.”

“Yes, that was the plan,” he said fearfully.

“For years,” said the old woman, rapping the heavy knobby hand grip of the cane on the table. “we have all been told that wand registration was to protect us against the criminal element in our world, but look back!” she rapped the cane again. “If you look back at the arguments made at the time the wand registration laws were first proposed, you will find that there was great concern over the fact that the professors at Ilvermorny were not cooperating with the aurors in identifying marriages between mag and no-mag.

“But why ask for such a draconian measure? Surely Picquery and Maitland would have realized that there would be resistance. Mr. Griswold has already registered his displeasure. Why would Picquery seek a law that makes virtual house elves of wizards? How long before we are required to have our wand registration number tattooed on our arms so that we can be summoned at will?—Like a house elf,” another hard rap. “What is at the root of this? What is at the root of every politician’s and bureaucrat’s fear?—That his incompetence would be made manifest for all to see—that he might be removed from his seat of power.

“Isn’t that true, Picquery? Isn’t it true that you seek quarterly wand examinations to hide from your own failures?—from allowing anyone, even yourself, to know the extent of your prejudice?—from allowing anyone to know the extent of your love of power and your incompetence in wielding that power?”

Picquery said nothing. She just sat frozen in her chair, staring at the small woman in the mourning dress. She looked to some of the others. No one spoke—no one looked at her—all avoided her eyes.

“You cannot remain silent, woman!” said the old woman, rapping her cane so forcefully that Picquery gave a startled jerk in her seat. “Everyone wants to know where you stand, why you acted as you did. Everyone must know.”

“All right, yes, yes,” said Picquery, very much under the influence of the veritas serum/calming draft pair that a disillusioned Lady Caro had poured into the tea and coffee urns and who still disillusioned stood off to the side recording all with the omnioculars. “Elizabeth is gone—disappeared; we don’t know where. Maitland suggested that we have quarterly wand examinations to improve our chances of catching the miscegenators.”

“Well, Mr. Griswold, now you know why this out of order request is being made, and that you are being deceived,” said the old woman. “That you have always been deceived about the purpose of the Wand Permit Office.

“The incompetence of the obliviators has been made manifest in the last words of William Wohlfort. He retained residual memories that he could not comprehend. It drove him into depression and despair. It drove him to take his own life.”

“Madam, if I may, who are you?” asked Griswold.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” said the old woman, removing a hat pin so that she could remove her veil and hat. “You do not know me. You may call me Joan.”

Everyone in the room was stunned to see Joan. She was old, the way no witch they had ever seen was. She was attractive in an strange way, but her face was sun burnt and lined. Her complexion seemed that of very old leather that had spent all its time in the sun and rain—wrinkled, cracked, stiff, weathered. She looked as if she had seen a very hard life. Witches did not look like this. A witch might be old and even ugly, but no witch lived a hard life. No witch ever looked so weather beaten.

The real Joan had been a no-mag, old when Queenie’s father first met her as a boy. She had traveled west by wagon train, taking months to make the trip. It would be years before the railroad enabled people to make such a trip in three weeks, which she had recently made to visit relatives in the East. Queenie’s father was advanced for his age. He could not do much magic, but he knew about polyjuice potion. He had learned about it practicing legilimency with his father. He knew it would be useful later. Joan was the beginning of his gathering.

“Yes, I am old. I am dying. I have had all but a few memories obliviated; it was my choice. I understand what William Wohlfort was suffering. I have been left with simple facts, such as what I am to say and knowledge of those spells I may need to defend myself—and that I once loved; my beloved, a no-mag, has been dead these many years hence.”

She continued, “The entire premise that it is possible to safely obliviate the memories of love is false. It is possible to safely remove a recent memory a no-mag has of some magic. It is possible to safely remove all the memories as Alexandros Metaxas did to those obliviators who tried to remove his wife’s memories of him and his daughter. But it is not possible to safely remove significant chunks of a person’s memories, of his life, while leaving other significant chunks intact.

“In my case, almost all my memories have been erased, but then I have no future. And it was my choice. I do not suffer as did William Wohlfort, but still I suffer. Others, whom I no longer remember will continue to seek out those witches and wizards who choose to love a no-mag. They will continue to remove them from your claws.”

“Why did you do it, Joan?” asked Griswold. “Why not just come and tell us? Why have others obliviate your memories?”

“As important as informing you was, I could not put the others in danger,” said Joan. “I knew that you might not let me leave, so they eventually acquiesced when I said that it must be me and they must obliviate my memories. I—we—could not take the chance that you might interrogate me. Ask Panty about how Maitland interrogated Elizabeth—with veritas serum and always the threat to obliviate her children.

“Now my friends can continue with our work. You know of them, but you do not know who they are. I could not allow you to wring that information from me.

“But, bare with me Mr. Griswold, I must continue with what I have come to say. You can see the evidence of the impossibility of what your obliviators attempt in the addled minds of witches and wizards who have had their memories of the no-mag they loved obliviated. Obliviated, even though they cooperated with their captors until the aurors had what they wanted and their cooperation was no longer needed, and they were then obliviated so they would be unaware of what had been done to them.

“You can also see it in the lives of the no-mags the aurors have destroyed, if you have not lost track of them. You don’t have to take my word for it. The aurors keep records with regard to all the witches and wizards they interrogate. Find those records; find them before they can be destroyed; find those witches and wizards, those who are still alive, and have them evaluated by healers. You will see that I am right.

“Elizabeth and William Wohlfort are just the latest to fall victim to those of you who pander to prejudice so as to gain and keep power over others—so as they may think better of themselves than they know they deserve.

“We were too late to help William, he is dead. But Elizabeth has taken her children and disappeared. She is safe and can set about putting her shattered life back together.

“It is Elizabeth’s disappearance that has precipitated Seraphina Picquery’s request to expand the Wand Permit Office. It is not needed. Wand registration is not necessary to the enforcement of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy. It is a creature of Rappaport’s law. Shut it down! And, if you can’t repeal Rappaport’s law, at least shut down the Wand Permit Office. It has no purpose other than to hunt witches and wizards who want to love.

“You are doing Grindelwald’s work for him as you attempt to create the purified wizarding world he desires—as you enforce Rappaport’s law. Who knows what hatred the Wohlfort children will harbor against you as they grow and learn what you did to their father; as they become strong. How many witches and wizards harbor such a hatred? Can you look deep into your own minds? Can you see the depth of your own prejudice?—Can you see how you nurture that prejudice by your desire to think better of yourselves than you know you deserve?—Can you see how it is your own fear of discovering your mistakes and failures that nurtures this darkness?—Overcome your fear!”

These questions did not require an expressed answer, but the veritas serum each had drunk would compel every one of the officials present to answer it for himself—to experience the guilt that this inner knowledge demanded he experience.

Joan finished with a warning, “Rappaport’s law creates enemies of those who slip the shackles with which you would bind them.”

When Joan had stopped speaking, Mr. Griswold asked with genuine concern, “What will you do now?”

“I will go now. My friends will help me.

“Find a different way; the rest of the wizarding world has,” she pleaded before, holding her hat and veil, she pulled out the black feather and was gone.

Mr. Griswold who had remained standing, walked to the center floor where Joan had stood to address them. Looking around, he picked up the pieces of Panty’s wand and walking up to him sitting next to Picquery, he handed him the pieces, saying, “I believe these are yours.”

Turning to face the congress, he said, “Fellow delegates, President Picquery was right. We do have new legislation to consider before we adjourn. I think we should first dispense with the issue of quarterly wand exams.

“Can we all agree that we should reject President Picquery’s request?”

There was general mumbling as the delegates conferred with each other. None stood to address the congress until the head of the New England congressional delegation, Abigail Foote, stood to move that the congress reject the president’s request for quarterly wand examinations. Picquery’s request was voted down by a unanimous voice vote.

When the formalities of the vote were done, Abigail Foote stood to address the congress. “I think that before we adjourn for the summer, we should agree to seal the record of this session. It could prove troubling were what happened here to become general knowledge.”

There was no disagreement and again by unanimous voice vote, Foote’s motion to seal was passed. It was at this point that Mr. Griswold, still standing near a voiceless Picquery made a motion that they not adjourn so that they could further discuss the problems and recommendations recently presented to this congress by the weather beaten witch, Joan, who had just addressed them.

“Surely, Clement, you do not propose repealing Rappaport’s law in the next few minutes,” said Abigail Foote.

“Not at all, Abigail,” said Griswold. “The repeal of Rappaport’s law is not something that can be resolved in the short amount of time left to us. I am not even certain that it should be repealed. I do suggest that we not adjourn today, but rather remain in session to consider her other request—the request to eliminate the Wand Permit Office.”

“I hardly think that is necessary,” said Foote, thinking that Griswold was moving too fast. “It is better that we have the summer to consider this before bringing it before the congress.”

“I most emphatically disagree,” said Griswold, making use of his raised position next to Picquery to forcefully address the congress. “We may have sealed these proceedings, but by the end of the summer rumors of what happened will certainly be out amongst our constituents. We need to get ahead of this.”

“Do you expect us to stay all night, just because an old woman wants us to repeal Rappaport’s law,” said Foote.

“We do not have to stay all night,” said Griswold. “We can always extend this session for a few days more. This is a serious matter and we should address it while it is fresh in our minds. We need to give our people the impression that we are addressing the issues for when the rumors of this session begin to spread.”

And so what was to be a session of closing formalities continued into the night in heated discussion.

Chapter 18: Chapter XVIII - The Final Disposition
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XVIII
The Final Disposition

When Joan was about to pull the feather to portkey to a small island toward the southern end of lake George, a disillusioned Zelos took hold of the feather also. He would stay disillusioned, guarding Jacob, until Queenie came to take him to their stone cabin in the mountains of Scotland where she would give him a calming draft.

“Mr. Zelos, go back now,” said Queenie, still holding the hand of a disillusioned Mr. Zelos. “You know where Lady Caro is set up, recording everything. You will not see her; don’t try to approach. She knows you will be returning to watch over her. Protect Lady Caro. Watch quietly and unseen. If you see danger to her, get her out.”

“Zelos does,” said Mr. Zelos. He popped back to the congressional chamber.

As soon as Queenie had Jacob back in their stone cabin she entered his mind to know his thoughts. She helped him out of the mourning gown and gently aided him in removing the many layers of clothing which she had impregnated with protective potions of differing purpose. It provided him with a most complete protection. Even the veil had protective potions applied to it.

When he stood before her, naked as the small leathery old woman, Joan, she placed a robe over his shoulders and held his hands. Together, they waited for the polyjuice potion to wear off.

When Jacob was himself again and no longer the old woman, Queenie got the pensieve and began to flood his memories back into his mind.

“So good to be home,” said Jacob. “So good to be me again.

“I will be fine. I will take a short nap. Now, you must return so you can see the editor when Lady Caro comes to you.”

Queenie kissed and held Jacob. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, beloved. You know that I am. Everything is as it was with only the addition to my memory of an adventure when I was alone without you.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “But the despair; you felt it too.”

“I did, but I had purpose to help me overcome my despair,” said Jacob. “I never descended into depression. I knew that what I was doing was for us—for you, even though I could not remember your name or who you were—only that I loved you. I knew what I was doing was for you, my beloved—and for ours who are yet to come. I knew this was our selfish war.”

Queenie thought back to her time in Ilvermorny when she had been instructed in love. She remembered those few words to which she had never paid much attention: A man’s fundamental nature is to protect. A woman’s fundamental nature is to nurture. This is what he had done; this is what she would do.

Slowly letting go of Jacob, kissing him again, barely brushing his lips, she portkeyed to her apartment to wait for Lady Caro and Mr. Zelos.

Queenie was again at her desk early. She sat quietly, waiting for the others to arrive. She glanced at her copy of the New York Ghost that she had on her desk. It was not long, before she saw Abernathy arrive. He waved to her and went into his office. He was only in for a few minutes before he exited and walked over to Queenie. He was carrying an official scroll.

“Well, Miss Goldstein, it looks as if you will not be resigning after all,” he said, handing the scroll to her.

Queenie unrolled the scroll and read:

To the department head of the Wand Permit Office, Abernathy,

You are by order of the Congress hereby ordered to cease operations and close the Department. As of this date, the Wand Permit Office will cease to exist.
Return all funds not needed to dismantle the Wand Permit Office to the Keeper of Treasure and Dragots.

Seraphina Picquery, President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America

“I certainly didn’t expect this,” said Abernathy. “It looks like we are all out of a job; well, I’m not. I will probably be shifted to some other department.

”I’m very grateful for all the work you have done. I have not mentioned your resigning to anyone, so you will receive your full pay along with everyone else.

“I wonder what happened. Panty was so certain that we would be expanding.”

“Mr. Abernathy, you need to see this morning’s Ghost,” said Queenie, handing the newspaper to him. “There is a special insert that shows what happened.”

Abernathy was still viewing the motion picture recording of last night’s congressional session when the other members of the department began to enter.

“Zelos, come to me,” he said. “The dismantling begins.”

When Mr. Zelos came, Abernathy gave him a dragot and instructed him to buy a copy of the New York Ghost for everyone and stack them next to the pastries.

“Well, Miss Goldstein,” Abernathy said after Mr. Zelos had gone. “It is a good thing that you brought so many pastries today. I think that we should turn this bad news into a bit of a celebration.

“I’ll be busy for the few minutes. When Zelos returns, have him get coco for everyone. And have him remain. I will have another task for him before I announce that no one has a job.—Miss Goldstein, don’t say anything to the others; let me tell them.”

When everyone had arrived for work, Abernathy left his office followed by Mr. Zelos pushing his cart.

“Good morning everyone,” began Abernathy, holding up his official notice. “I have some bad news. Last night the congress ordered that I close down this department. As of today, each of you is out of work. I see that some of you have morning Ghost. Take the time to read the special insert. For the rest of you, there is a stack of papers next to the pastries. Take one and read the insert. It will make everything clear.

“I will try to find jobs for anyone who wants one. See me later; I will be in my office. Also, since the congress stipulated that I was to return all dragots not needed for dismantling our department, I have decide that the dismantling cost will include three months severance pay for each of you.

“Zelos, distribute the gold to each.”

As Mr. Zelos was handing to each a specific pouch of gold, Abernathy said, “I suggest that before you do anything else, you take this money home and make it secure. I suspect that not everyone will appreciate what I consider to be proper dismantling expenses. Then come back read the Ghost insert, have pastries and coco, and if you wish visit me about your wish for further employment; I will be in my office.”

And with that wand registration ceased to be a feature of the American wizarding community.

Queenie did not stay very long. She did send a message to Bob Holden telling him about the end of wand registration and about the Ghost insert. When she entered Abernathy’s office, she was accompanied by Mr. Zelos.

“Are you reconsidering working here?” asked Abernathy.

“No, Mr. Abernathy,” said Queenie. “I have come to say goodbye and to tell you that I will be taking Mr. Zelos with me.”

Abernathy was surprised to here this, but so much that was out of the ordinary had happened, he did not show it. “Ah, one more disruption to my daily routine.”

“A few weeks ago, I bought Mr. Zelos,” said Queenie. “I have been loaning him to the MACUSA while I continued to work here. I understand that it is a common practice. If Mr. Mowbray can rent out the house elves to Gnarlak certainly I can loan Mr. Zelos back.”

“Queenie Goldstein, I believe that I have underestimated you,” said Abernathy. “I suspect that everyone has underestimated you.

“May I make a request before you take Zelos? Would you allow me to use him to help me destroy all the wand registration records?”

“Of course,” said Queenie. “I will help also.”

It was after Queenie had left with Mr. Zelos that Panty showed up requesting Abernathy to box his records for Picquery.

Abernathy enjoyed telling him that they were already destroyed.

“Have you seen this morning’s Ghost?” asked Abernathy.

When Panty replied that he hadn’t, Abernathy suggested that on his way out he pick up a copy that lay next to the pastries and read the special insert.

When Queenie and Mr. Zelos portkeyed back to their stone cabin, they were greeted by an animated Jacob who hugged and kiss his wife and by Lady Caro who carried a plate of what looked like meatballs to the table.

“I have something to show you,” said Jacob. “And Lady Caro has whipped up a batch of Scotch eggs. You have to try them. Sit, eat. I will tell you what I have planned.”

“And here I thought we could get a start on a pregnant Queenie,” said Queenie.

“Yes, yes, all in good time,” said Jacob. “First, we eat.”

As they sat down to their picnic lunch, Jacob explained, “You know how much I love the house I’ve designed. Well, I’ve changed my mind. A Roman villa will be too conspicuous on top of a Scottish Mountain. I know that you can use various spells to conceal it and keep potential intruders away, and you can still do that. But I was thinking that our house should be naturally camouflaged; it should look like the stone mountain—to conceal it from wizard and muggle alike.

“Lady Caro says that she and Mr. Zelos can fuse stone. I assume that you can also. You can fuse the stone to look like the side of the mountain. You can make it look irregular with the walls of varying thickness and arching over to form a domed roof, the house would look like the mountain from above and below.

“We can still have our inner courtyard and garden—it might even be much larger, but the whole house would fit to the shape and appearance of the mountain top.

“I will show you after we eat and then we can get to work on that pregnant Queenie, or perhaps I can just show you after.”

Queenie said nothing. She smiled and thought to herself: We are free; we are safe; we did this; we can build the life we envision; we will build the life we envision; there is nothing to stop us; there is nothing to fear; we will both go forward imagining and discovering what is possible—what is.

Chapter 19: Chapter XIX - Ilvermorny
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

Chapter XIX

The third year Ilvermorny students were all a chatter as they entered their potions classroom.

“They changed everything,” said Cornelius Robinson. “There are only 20 seats and no work benches. Where are those from the other houses? Where do we put our caldrons?”

“And look at all the closets against the walls,” said Arabella van Ness. “Each one has a name on it.”

“Enough Chatter,” said a deep voice that seemed to come from the center of the room where a semicircle of a work bench stood surrounded by the 20 seats. “Take the seat with your name.”

“Where do we put our caldron,” said Samuel Tichner.

“All in good time,” said the voice. “Time which you are wasting. Put it on your writing table for now.”

When all were seated, a figure of a man in a black robe appeared. He wore a brimless hat that came down almost to his eyebrows. It seemed to accentuate his very deep eyes. His face was dark, weather beaten; his bearing seemed somewhat frightening. “My name is Kowalski and I will be your potions instructor for this year and many years to come. This year is the last year that you will be required to take potions. This is the year when you will decide if you want to continue with potions. This is the year that I will decide if I will accept you into the next year’s potions class.

“You have in the past taken potions in a large class with some from another house. I have changed that, although for those who go on, you will again take your potions class with others. There will, however, never be more than twenty of you in one class. This will enable you to better concentrate on your work.

“Miss van Ness, you noticed the closets with the names on the doors. Take your cauldron to the closet with your name on it. You will see that your name plate is glowing a bright orange.”

When Arabella van Ness had gone to the closet door, Kowalski instructed, “Put your hand on the name plate and tap the plate with your wand.”

When she had, the door opened and the door way expanded, squeezing some of the doors to the left and right into narrow strips. A large alcove appeared with a work bench, cauldrons, bottles, and various and sundry pieces of equipment for potions work.

“This is where you and only you will do your work,” said Kowalski. “Only you and I can enter. Put your cauldron on the work bench and wait. The rest of you find your door. Your names are arranged in alphabetic order from left to right. Put your hand on your name plate and tap the name plate with your wand to open your door. Enter and put your cauldron on the work bench and wait inside your work space.”

When all the students had placed their cauldrons, Kowalski said, “Starting with Mr. Butler, one by one step out of your work space. You will see that as you do, your door will close and lock. Only you and I can open your door.”

When all the students were again back in their seats, Kowalski said, “So far you have been taught potions that take one or two class periods to make. There are, however, many potions that take days or even months to make. I have set up your work station to allow for you to make such potions. I want you to give some thought to what potions you might like to make. Soon, in a few minutes, you will have a good idea about what the first such potion will be. Any guess now?

“Yes, Mr. Palmer.”

“Veritas Serum,” said Ezra Palmer.

“Very good, anyone else? Yes, Miss Crafts.”

“Love potion,” said Cadence Crafts.

“Yes, Miss Crafts, you will all make a love potion,” said Kowalski softly. “You will also learn just how vile such a potion is—how much like the imperious curse it is. However, you will not learn it until you have been instructed in what love is and how to cultivate it. That will occur some time in the spring.”

It was then that everyone noticed that their potions instructor was changing. And almost in unison, the class called out, “Polyjuice potion.”

“Very good, class,” said Queenie Kowalski. “Polyjuice potion it is, but bare with me a bit while I straighten up.”

Queenie removed the hat and arranged her hair over her forehead to more completely cover the diadem that had been covered by the hat. This new diadem was only recently made—the result of much experimentation with different cores and different living saplings. It spiraled about her head twice giving it a total length of almost four feet and much more powerful than her previous one. The wood was light in color to match her hair. No fancy unicorn to extend through her hair, only a small point to mark the tip of the wand. She held the hat in her hand and disappeared it. She then disappeared her robe, revealing a white high collar blouse with full length sleeves, and a dark green skirt that came to her ankles, all of which hung very loosely on her.

“I will just snug up everything,” she said, and the class saw her loose clothing tighten about her. “Ah, much better.”

“So much for introductions,” said Queenie. “Of all the subjects in your study of magic, potions is unique in one special way. Will anyone venture a guess as to what it might be?”

“Come, come, take a guess,” chided Queenie before observing a tentative hand being raised. “Yes, Mr. Hall, what say you?”

“We don’t use wands making potions,” said Silas Hall.

“Very good, you are getting there,” said Queenie. “What is the significance of not using wands?”

This time no one raised his hand. “All right, I will give you a hint,” said Queenie. “You all know the story of the founders of this school of magic, James Steward, a muggle, and Isolt Sayre, a witch. What is the singular distinction that James Steward enjoys?”

“What is a muggle?” asked Arabella van Ness.

“Oh, did I say muggle?” said Queenie. “That is the term we use in England to refer to no-mags. Although I was born here and attended Ilvermorny, I have lived in Scotland with my husband, Jacob, and our three children for the past seven years. I have gotten used to the British way of speaking.

“James Steward is the only no-mag known to have been a maker of wands. What does that mean to you?”

“Yes, Miss Ormsbee,” said Queenie to the raised hand of Dorcas Ormsbee.

“No-mags can make some magical instruments,” said Dorcas.

“Excellent, Miss Ormsbee. That is exactly right,” said Queenie. “And that is precisely what is unique about potions. Potions can be made by a no-mag—no magical ability is necessary. I have both witnessed and instructed no-mags in the art of potion making.”

A collective gasp arose from the class.

“You shouldn’t say that,” said Dorcas Ormsbee. “You will get in trouble.”

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Ormsbee,” said Queenie. “I have been very discreet. I have only instructed an artist friend in how to make a color fixing potion that he can add to his paints, and he is married to a witch. And of course my husband who is also married to a witch and who is fascinated by all things magic. He doesn’t even consider what we do as being magic at all, only a different way of manipulating the world about us.”

Another gasp arose from the class.

“I will not get in trouble,” said Queenie, reassuringly. “I live in Scotland, outside the reach of the MACUSA. That is why we chose to leave America; we did not want the MACUSA showing up to take our children and obliviate their memories of their father; to obliviate his memory of them and me; to obliviate my memory of him.

“I will not be the one instructing you in the various aspects of love and what is needed to cultivate it. I will say that there is nothing about romantic love that involves magic. Love is independent of magic. It matters not whether a muggle marries another muggle, or marries a witch or wizard, or a witch marries a wizard.”

“But you are here now,” said Silas Hall, still concerned.

“Yes, but only at Ilvermorny,” said Queenie. “I rise, look after my children while Jacob bakes his bread and pastries, then I portkey here to teach. Jacob spends part of the day portkeying his pastries to the various hotels and restaurants that are his customers, before he returns to be with the children.

“Oh, before I forget.” Queenie floated sample pastries to each of her students.

“At the end of my school day, I portkey back for dinner at 8:00 pm. It’s a long day but the elves help with the children and household chores.”

This was too much for the class; they began to exclaim their questions. “House elves!” “How many?” “Where do you get the time?” “Are you rich?”

“Quiet now, I will answer all your questions,” said Queenie. “We have three elves in our house. Our elf baby does not work as of yet, but he is so very cute, barely bigger than my hand. Here, let me show you.”

She took out a picture of the eight of them and enlarged it to cover the wall behind her.

“What are your house elves wearing?” asked Freya Lane. “Are they wearing clothes?”

“No, Miss Lane, they are not wearing clothes,” said Queenie. “They are wearing a cut down bed sheet of very fine linen. The sheet is as long as the arm span of the elf. It is as wide as the elf is tall, plus about five inches. Elves are very short. If you were to make one for yourself, you would add about 12 inches to the width of the sheet. The extra fabric is folded over to drape from the shoulders, front and back. Pinned at the shoulders, the head and arms extend through the opening space provided on either side of the pinned points of the sheet which is folded in half lengthwise. A length of braided rope acts as a belt. I have interwoven gold thread into the rope braid to give it a more elegant look, but still it is just a rope. There is no sewing or special cutting as in clothing. When unfolded, it can be used as a bed sheet. Lady Caro’s bed sheet comes to her ankles, while Mr. Zelos’ bed sheet comes only to his knees.

“The chiton was a common form of dress in ancient Greece. My Jacob told me about it when he learned that the elves didn’t wear clothes. He didn’t think it right for them to dress in pillow cases or rags.

“Now, as to the timing of my day,” she continued. “I arise late, about 8:00am. Mr. Zelos brings us breakfast.” She pointed to the picture and Mr. Zelos waved to the class. “My children are still very young so for the most part we play with magic and my eldest, Aurora, sometimes reads to us. Jacob is busy baking and delivering his pastries. He is back by 11:00am and I portkey here, where it is 6:00am. There is a five hour time difference. I will leave between 2:00pm and 3:00pm and be home no later than 8:00pm for a nice dinner.

“Am I rich? That depends on your perspective. We do not have any great wealth to impress others, but—and here you should pay attention—by duplicating certain items that are used up, we are able to save on the cost of those things we need to use. For instance, by duplicating the clothing I will wear for the day, I can keep the original, wear the duplicate for one day and then disappear it. My clothes are kept clean and never get dirty—never wear out. I don’t have to clean or buy replacements. I duplicate all the candles and oil we use in lamps. I duplicate all the wood that Jacob uses in his ovens. I have even duplicated the ovens he uses, although I do it once a year to be on the safe side, because even iron when duplicated is not as long lasting as the original. We only had to buy one oven and from it I was able to make three. And, when my husband got more customers, I duplicated that original oven four more times at no added cost. The original brick and iron oven which is not used, will never wear out.

“Here is my advice to you. Learn well your lessons about duplication. It is a great wealth multiplier. Just don’t use duplicated material for anything that is to be permanent, like a house. This will not make you rich; you will still have to produce things of value, for yourself or to sell or for trade, but there is no reason for a witch or wizard to be poor.”

Queenie had entered the mind of each student as she spoke, and now as she scanned the mind of each she could see there was both amazement and apprehension. She began softly, “Let me tell you what happened seven years ago. Seven years ago, I found myself in the middle of some monumental events. I worked at the old Wand Permit Office. I did some clerical work and got tea and coffee for the wand examiners. Sometimes I would examine someone’s wand—not often, but sometimes. It was May of 1927. Everything changed. We all read it in the New York Ghost. There was a special insert. Someone had secretly recorded the closing session of the congress. The then president, Seraphina Picquery, requested that wand examinations be made four times a year. After she had there suddenly appeared an old witch dressed in an old fashioned mourning gown. She was very, very old. She told the congress what Picquery was hiding from them. She told them that the no-mag husband of a witch, whom the no-mag hunters had obliviated, had a few days earlier committed suicide from feelings of despair and the depression he suffered at the loss of all memory of his wife and children.

“You see, the obliviators had left residual memories. I did not know it at the time, but such massive obliviation always leaves residual memories. It doesn’t matter whether you are wizard or no-mag. Witches and wizards who are so obliviated are never the same. They are permanently damaged.

“When the wife, who had been cooperating with the obliviators in order to spare her children from being so obliviated, learned of her husband’s suicide, she took her children and disappeared. To this day no one knows where she is.

“The congress, knowing that the failure of the aurors and obliviators would eventually be known, attempted to do something that would make it look like they were acting to correct a wrong. They closed down the Wand Permit Office and I found that I was out of work.

“Wand registration had been implemented specifically to track the use of magic in the hopes of catching witches and wizards who were using magic in their marriage to a no-mag. But even this duplicitous action of the MACUSA was recorded and the Ghost printed the special insert which showed the entire session, including the arguments for and against shutting down wand registration. They felt they had to do something to avoid addressing the issue of Rappaport’s law. Rappaport’s law remains in effect to this day, but many of those members of congress are no longer in congress.

“Jacob and I had always planned to move to England. After this, we took what we had and left the next day. I have not been back until now. And as I said, I restrict my presence to Ilvermorny were I am safe. My husband and children remain in England where they are safe.

“The MACUSA no-mag hunters may still be hunting miscegenators, even as I speak, but you do not have to meekly bow down to their tyranny. As witches and wizards, you are powerful in your own right. Learn to identify what is real; derive your courage from your knowledge. Delve into the consequences of your every action. Do not be afraid to discover what is right—what is.

“You will find a copy of the Ghost insert in the history section of the library.”

Silas Hall raised his hand and when Queenie recognized him, asked, “What do you mean by miscegenators?”

“Do not forget that you have a dictionary in your bag,” said Queenie as she raised her hand toward Silas and lifted his dictionary onto the small writing table before him and opened it to the proper page. “Miscegenation is when two people of different races marry. Anti-miscegenation laws such as Rappaport’s law are designed to keep the race pure; in this case, it is the race of wizards. But there is no purity of wizards. Most of the children of mag/no-mag marriages are witches and wizards. All three of my children have exhibited magical abilities.

“Human beings are evolving. There is a legend among elves of a Past Time, a time before wizards when elf and man traded work freely. Think what that means—a time before wizards when elves were not enslaved. There is no evidence of this—it is only legend.

“I have some readings by the muggles, Erasmus Darwin and his grandson Charles Darwin, that explain natural selection and how living things evolve. I also have some private notes that suggest that the whole of humanity is evolving into a race of magical beings.”

This time there was no gasp; there was silence until Silas Hall asked, “Natural selection?”

“Your dictionary, Mr. Hall, your dictionary,” said Queenie. “Now, take out your notebooks, and we will go over the ingredients for polyjuice potion, and how and why these ingredients interact with each other as they do.”