Divina Commedia

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It was a cold and rainy afternoon, definitely not the sort of weather that many would like to spend outdoors. Luckily, there was no reason for Gioconda to be outside. There had once been a time when she wouldn’t have minded whether it rained or the sun shone as long as she got to play Quidditch. But in less than a month she would celebrate (or rather, mourn) one year without having been on a broom. It was a slightly unhinging feeling to realize that she was getting along just fine without what had once been everything to her. It seemed her mother had been right, Quidditch was not the only element that made a life worth living. She hadn’t really figured out yet what was the new reason of her existence, but at least she got along quite well as things currently were. She attended her studies at Lufkin and did her assignments conscientiously and on time. And whenever she didn’t have courses, she’d spend the mornings or afternoons at the bookshop.

At the beginning, it had been a difficult task. She had never worked before in a normal job, and it had felt like more of a challenge than an average Quidditch game. There had to be done so much standing around, and it had hurt her damaged backbone. Most of the books and authors had meant nothing to her. She had mixed up the different sections, and half the time she had been very ill-humoured. It was almost a miracle that she was still employed here. But during the last few months, her work had improved - at least that was her fast opinion that she had already had to defend in front of her great-aunt; the witch still treated her like she was a minor who did everything in the wrongest way possible.

Gioconda didn’t like to use the word fortunate in reference to anything dealing with her moving to England, but it was nevertheless the one she should use, considering she had got a job she wasn’t qualified for but that was the perfect addition to her studies. It was to the university that she owed much of the knowledge that made her now into an at least decent if not (as she preferred to think) talented employee of the bookshop. This afternoon, when she came from eating lunch at university, there wasn’t much going on in the shop. The newly delivered books had already been put on the shelves in the morning. A few books waited for customers to pick them up, but these could arrive in a moment or in a few hours. She walked past the shelves, looking at the spines and checking whether anything was in the wrong order. Deciding that everything was perfect enough and leaving her with nothing to do, she turned her steps towards where some of the books she needed to read for university were kept. Hesitating for a moment, she pulled out the one she had been reading at the library and searched for the passage where she had left off. Trying to appear not too concentrated, she started reading.

Goodbye Graceful, I'm so Grateful

You helped to change my wicked ways
outfit.

Raindrops pattered against the bill of his baseball cap as Jesse jogged across the alley toward Flourish and Blotts. It was a dreary day, not that he had noticed until about an hour ago. He had been in the mines all day, picking at the walls, looking for anything shiny to give to the boss man. That was his life now; picking pieces of rubble, hoping to find that one sliver of ore to bring a smile to his ever-frowning boss's fat, stupid face. If he could find something, anything, he could get the rest of the day off. That's how it worked in the mines. Not that he had ever been lucky enough to find anything worth while, but that's the speech they gave to boost moral. Not that it mattered, Jesse didn't have a choice as to whether or not he got to be in that damp, dusty, cold, fruitless womb of the earth.

Today hadn't been different than any of the other days he had been forced to work in the mines since he had become a registered muggleborn. He had awoke that morning shivering and cold, the rainwater from the night before had been dripping onto his mattress over night. The soaked blanket pinned his shaking body against his dirty mattress, as his teeth quietly chattered he stared blankly at the wall wondering what he would be doing if he would have just stayed in foster care...stayed in the muggle world. That soggy blanket weighed on him, much like his dread for the day. Another day wasted in the mines while his fellow...well, ex-fellow classmates studied their lessons at Hogwarts.

He was bitter, yes, that was certain. Hogwarts was home to him, and it had been torn away. Despite the fact that he was no longer allowed to practice magic, he was determined not to let that stop him from learning. Jesse rushed inside the book shop, taking off his hat and shaking the water onto the floor. It felt much nicer inside, so very warm and comforting. Once the water was whisked away from his hat he placed it back on his head, shooting a quick glance to the woman who was reading. The boy's green eyes scanned the room as he started toward her, assuming she worked there, they were the only two in the store after all. "Excuse me, " his voice was deep and quiet, "could you tell me which books I would need for 7th year classes? "

Standing around in a shop was not the ideal way to be reading a book, but over the course of the last months, Gioconda had gained enough expertise to find it quite natural. While working, she was on her feet all the time anyway, and when she could lean against a shelf, she felt that it was even better for her back than if she had the chance to sit down. And then there was so much sitting required at university that at least for the next one or two hours Gioconda would have no desire to sit down. She preferred the days where she could spend half the day at work and the other at uni, it was always a nice change - though she preferred to work in the morning so that she could spend the late afternoon in the library. But it was never possible to have everything, and she could still try to make the best out of the situation.

She flinched involuntarily as a voice suddenly addressed her. Either the bell at the entrance was defect, or she had been impressively inattentive again. ”Of course, dear,” she said, internally cursing herself, and hastily shoved the book back on the shelf. Only then turning with an attempt at a polite smile, she saw the young man, who stood before her dripping wet. ”What classes are you taking?” she asked automatically, managing to hide her rising confusion. It was mid-February, why did he require schoolbooks? She had thought the Hogwarts students had returned in the beginning of January and didn’t get to leave the castle to go to London. If they needed an additional book, they usually ordered it via owl. Although, of course, those who had internships sometimes did come here. But then they should have bought their books in summer, shouldn’t they?

Maybe he was homeschooled, she guessed that also existed in Britain. Though why his parents weren’t getting his books for him was another question. But she wasn’t employed to ask questions, and maybe he was also getting the books for a sibling and had already left school. Though, considering how he continued to drip on the carpet, he might not be of age yet. Or at least she couldn’t think of any other reason why he didn’t do anything against the heightened risk of catching a cold. ”Would you like me to dry you up?” she asked, drawing her wand. She might be but an employee at Flourish and Blotts, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t take it as a personal failure if someone got sick because of her negligence - and the horrid British weather, but that was something she could do nothing about.

GOODBYE GRACEFUL, I'M SO GRATEFUL

YOU HELPED TO CHANGE MY WICKED WAYS

The Ministry may have taken his wand, his dignity and his home-but he would be damned if they would stop him from getting it back! Jesse had always been sneaky. He had to be. Over the past six years of his life he managed to hide his magical abilities and background from thirteen different muggle foster care families. It was imperative that none of them ever find out, his case worker had made damn sure he knew that. Monica was an amazing woman, the only constant thing he had ever had in his life. She had taken his case when he was only three years old, after the first two families dropped him back off at the child services doorstep. Monica knew him, probably better than he knew himself, and she taught him how to lie and be believed. How to sneak around without drawing attention. How to keep his magic a secret.

Now he had to keep it a secret for other reasons. Jesse was sure that there was probably a ban on muggleborns purchasing books of magic. Hell, they were banned from pretty much anything anyways. He was determined to keep learning, whether they wanted him to or not, which is why he was here. "Oh, I'll be taking Divination, Charms, Potions, Dark Arts and Transfiguration." Jesse offered a polite smile, his eyes changing to a more blueish hue. His brain scrambled to find an excuse to explain why he hadn't already received his books but his face stayed calm, his smile bright. It would have been easy for him to fake a smile, Jesse had perfected it over his lifetime but he found that this woman seemed kind. She deserved a real smile.

"I'm nervous to start classes," Jesse smirked, touching the books on the table next to him he glanced at their titles as he spoke, "We've just moved back from America, getting a late start in the year. Hoping to get ahead on some reading... " The tall boy brought his gaze back to the store keep, feeling confident in his lie. It came as easy as breathing these days. "Not sure if I'm behind or ahead in the learning.... Hopefully ahead! " A soft chuckle, nice touch.


The blue of the tall boy's jeans were speckled with dark spots from where the rain drops had landed during his walk, and the fabric of his hooded sweatshirt didn't seem to absorb any of the cold drops at all. Instead they beaded up, ran down his sleeves and torso and onto the floor with a soft patting sound. Surely he looked silly, no umbrella to keep the rain away and no wand (thank you Ministry) to cast a drying spell with. Any other wizard might have been embarrassed to be in his state, but his eyes were full with intent, not shame or folly. It had been quite a few months since his wand had been taken...this was his new normal. And it felt quite normal, having been raised in the muggle world. Being a sopping wet mess on a rainy day was to be expected, but this wasn't the muggle world, and as the woman asked to dry him he felt that sting come back. The pain of remembering what he had lost in all the recent events.

"Ah," He chuckled once more, "Yes, if you could please. My wand was broken during the move. Next stop after this is to get a new one. " It was kind of her to offer and he was glad she did. His body was chilled from the rain, it reminded him of the condition in which he had woken up that morning. Would be nice to be dry, if only for a moment before he wandered back to his assigned living quarters. "Hope you don't mind me asking but, are you in uni? " He questioned, eyes narrowing as he studied her. "The last shop I was in the keep was reading as well, studying for exams. " 

An employee was supposed to always smile and be polite to customers, she had learnt this over the months. At first, it had been one of the more annoying, if not the most annoying, elements of being employed at the book shop. In addition, she had often been very bad tempered in the beginning, not just in the shop but more or less twenty-four hours per day. But contrary to her initial beliefs it wasn’t in her nature to be moody for eternity, and after about three months, her sullenness had turned into something more neutral, and with the neutrality she had gained the ability to serve a customer without giving them the feeling that they were considered nothing but a nuisance. It had almost been fun to help all the older and especially the younger students to get their books for school. Even when the days became shorter again and the weather colder, her mood didn’t drop as much as the temperature. University was starting to really entertain her, and she soon found that a smile almost automatically appeared on her face when she needed to help a customer. It was a little silly to be proud of this as it was what the staff of a shop was supposed to do, and when she went shopping, she also considered it normal to be treated politely. But then she had always been a tad impatient and liked to be in the right, so to achieve even some patience had needed some persuasion done entirely by herself - because there was no one else she would have listened to. She used to listen to her Quidditch captain, but there the orders had been quite different. Thus, she gave all the credit to herself thatshe now considered it normal to be perfectly friendly and welcoming to customers.

At least she hoped that she was friendly and welcoming. The young man’s answer seemed to imply that she had appeared confused or maybe even curious as to why he wished for these books now. But then there was the chance that he had met with puzzled personnel in other shops, and his explanation had nothing to do with any fault of hers. Hopefully the latter assumption was true. ”That’s quite understandable,” she said. ”It can’t be easy to change school, not to speak of continents, in the middle of the year. You were at that American school until now?” What was the name again? She only knew someone who had spent a year at Castelobruxo, but that was in South America, and he meant most likely the one in the north. Something starting with an ”I” she thought, but it might be better not to say anything lest she made a fool of herself. She hated to appear ignorant. ”I don’t know the schedules enough to tell you that. It might depend from subject to subject,” she said. ”But it can’t be that big of a difference. As far as I know, the two schools have similar priorities.”

Waving her wand up and down the boy so that the warm air could dry him, she didn’t manage to hide her shock at his words. ”Broken?” she asked with sympathy. ”That’s horrible. Was it your first wand? It’s like using a dear friend - at least I suppose it is, I still have my first.” Pointing in the direction of the only wand shop she knew, she said, ”Ollivander’s down there. He’s got a really good reputation here in Britain.” A too good reputation in her opinion. It was a result of living on an island she supposed that made the British so full of themselves. She knew of about five wandmaker families who claimed to be the best in their profession, and therefore thought nearly to nothing about such claims. But she wasn’t going to tell this to the young wizard. It was better if he was feeling positive when choosing a wand. She had heard that led to better results.

”Yes, exactly, I am at uni,” she said with a laugh as she stepped away from the shelf, deciding that he was dry enough. ”Exams are only at the end of spring, there’s just always a lot of reading to do. We keep the textbooks separately out of practicality. If you will follow me, please?” Gesturing towards the other end of the shop, she began to walk in the indicated direction.

GOODBYE GRACEFUL, I'M SO GRATEFUL

YOU HELPED TO CHANGE MY WICKED WAYS

In all honesty Jesse didn't know much at all about the American school. Hell, up until he was eleven he didn't even know that magic existed. Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Lufkin University, none of it. As far as he had known his pitiful muggle life was all there was. Maybe he would be so lucky to grow up and get a shitty muggle job, or worse turn to crime; selling drugs was always a bright future for the neighborhood kids he grew up with. If he was really lucky, maybe he wouldn't get shot or end up in prison. Never in a million years did he picture his life leading back to that, and yet here he was. The mines were his new home, the coal and boulders within them as dark and hard as his heart had grown. Jesse's calloused palms held the permanent stains of the mines, a job he would likely have had if he had never went to Hogwarts in the first place...

Despite all the screwed up things that were happening to his beloved wizarding world, Jesse would persevere. He would continue learning at all costs. He would practice spells in secret, using a twig he found as a replacement for his beloved wand. They couldn't take magic from him. Couldn't pry it from his heart, his mind, or his cold dead hands. 

Coming to Diagon Alley was a risk, if he was recognized leaving the shops with magical supplies he could be in serious trouble. He had kept his head down, wore a bright color to deter people from believing he was trying to remain hidden...reverse psychology. Jesse had come into the store knowing he needed a cover story to hide the fact that he was a muggleborn. What shop keep wouldn't wonder about a student buying ALL their books in the middle of the year? When leaving the castle was a privilege not easily granted? The taller boy had dredged through the streets formulating a story, head down, eyes on the prize. 

"Yes, spent the last three years in America. Finally moving back," Jesse danced around the fact that he didn't know the American school's name- something he should really find out if he was going to continue on with this lie in other shops. It was a fun little game for him to see if he could formulate this alternate persona and be believable. If he could keep it up, maybe he could even get himself a new wand. Part of creating the persona was figuring out just how far to take it, and he had made an error.  Jesse dropped his bright blue eyes, hiding the embarrassment as she spoke of not knowing their schedules. It was an embellishment to his story that he could have omitted, he made note to keep his story much simpler if he were to continue his shopping today. He decided to not respond verbally to her comments about the similarity of the schools- instead he smiled and nodded.

"Really?" His eyes squinted and he bawked with true amazement. "That is still your first wand? I've probably gone through at least two or three, had them fixed more times than I can count on one hand probably." His eyes were bright, as was his smile, and for a moment he was his regular self. No lies, or fake conversation. The woman pointed him in the direction of Ollivander's and he felt his heart flutter. Should he even try getting a new wand? The wands most certainly wouldn't work for him, probably having all been enchanted to explode in the hands of a muggleborn, if not something even more ridiculous. But oh how he missed the feel of it in his hands. "I'll have to check it out. Thank you for the blow dry, much better."

Jesse nodded as she asked for him to follow, he stayed a few steps behind her and gazed around the book shop. He had missed the smell of books. The last book he had went into the burn pit at his apartments over the cold winter months...whatever it took to keep warm. To keep people from freezing to death. "So, I've heard there's issues with muggleborn students at Hogwarts? Any issues like that at the university you attend, or are they pretty accepting of them?" Jesse kept his inquisition light and, hopefully, not anything worth raising an eyebrow over. He wanted to know if maybe one day he attend, or if the ministry had wraps on it as well.

Supplying students was one of the most gratifying tasks as far as Gioconda was concerned. She didn’t need to voice any personal opinion as to whether she considered a book good or bad, she just had to know by heart which book was required for which course. And after she had experienced the first dozen of students, there were few things easier to remember. And thanks to the overall hundreds of students, even now she could rattle off all the set books without hesitation. Therefore assisting a student could be done without an effort on her part, and she was still being very useful, making these customers her favourites by far.

”Ah, you’ve been to Hogwarts before?” she said. ”Then you know more than I do. I’ve never been near a big wizarding school. I suppose your school in America-” She really wished she knew the name; the way she put it, it became far clearer than she liked that she had no idea. ”-had completely different books. The ones Hogwarts uses are all by British authors. But if you compare the textbooks, you should be able to tell where you stand.”

She had learnt to keep a polite smile on her face, no matter what weird stories the customers might tell her. But the boy’s confession was too much for her, and for a few seconds she simply stared. ”Thir-” She stopped herself before she could voice her incredulity. To her, a wand was almost a fifth limb, and it had never occurred to her that someone else could see things differently. ”Well,” she said when she had recovered enough from her surprise, ”I hope your next will make it a little while longer.”

By now, she knew the ways through the shop by heart and would have no problem in finding a specific section even if she were blindfolded. So she continued walking without a pause in her step even when her customer’s next words surprised her again. ”Is there?” she asked. ”I… I don’t know, I usually don’t ask people I meet to hand me their family tree.” There had been a short period of time in which she had tried to read British newspapers. But the attempt at informing herself about the community she was living in hadn’t lasted long, and she had gone back to be content with the gossip her mother sent from home for news. Although she felt comfortable living in England, she wasn’t that interested in how the society functioned. Maybe it had something to do with having grown up in a small village. Anybody who hadn’t grown up there was a stranger and would remain one. Therefore all the English were casual acquaintances, and even these acquaintances were mostly those she worked with at the shop and those at university. The way English witches and wizards grew up was apparently too different, and it was impossible for her to grow close to anybody who hadn’t the same background. But after the boy’s question, it was a little weird that she had never met anyone Muggleborn - at least not consciously. ”I don’t think I’ve met a Muggleborn there,” she admitted. ”So how they are treated… I don’t think you can keep someone from studying. That would be discrimination, and that’s forbidden by the law.” At least she thought it was, but then she had no idea about Britain’s legal system. Still, these things were controlled by the International Confederation of Wizards. At least she had always thought it was.

She stopped before the shelves with the textbooks and needed a moment to remember why she had come there. ”Right…” she said, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. ”You said… Divination. Seventh year. That’s…” Her hand moved almost automatically past the rows of books and pulled one out. ”The Dream Oracle by Inigo Imago. They focus on Oneiromancy, sounds good to you?” She handed him the book and turned back to the shelf. ”Then you’re also taking…” What had it been? Divination had stuck with her because it was the one subject that she had absolutely no knowledge of and no interest in. But otherwise he had mentioned very basic subjects if she remembered correctly. She made a step to the left where a whole shelf was filled by almost identical looking books. Gripping the volume on the utmost right, she checked the number and extended it to her customer. ”Charms you said, right? Then you might remember this from your first two years? The seventh volume of The Standard Book of Spells. Then you’re also taking…” She frowned and looked over the books in front of them.

GOODBYE GRACEFUL, I'M SO GRATEFUL

YOU HELPED TO CHANGE MY WICKED WAYS

"Yes, it's been some time though. I'll be glad to be back to the British authors, the American books just aren't the same..." His interest had been peeked and he couldn't help himself, "Where did you do your schooling, if you don't mind me asking?" Jesse could tell that she had an accent but he wasn't very good at deciphering where from. The only accents he could really discern were Irish, English, Welsh and Scottish. But even then there were mini-dialects between them. A Scot from Aberdeen sounded different than one from Glasgow, Northern Ireland and Ireland spoke differently, but the woman he was speaking to definitely didn't sound like any of those. It peeked his interest that she hadn't attended any of the large schools, maybe it wasn't so far fetched that he could be self taught.

The woman had seemed quite surprised at his admittance of being a terrible wand owner. It was hard for him to take proper care of them as he bounced from foster home to foster home, all the while having to keep it hidden. He supposed that it was different for people who came from magic families. They probably left it on a desk in their room, the kitchen table, their mum's always calling out for them to pick up their wands. It was a nice image, even the mundane and silly parts of having a family seemed sweet to Jesse. It always bothered him to hear his classmates complaining about their parents. He wished for simple problems like being grounded by parents, mum making sure his bedroom was kept tidy when company was expected. He would kill for that.

"Of course not-" he chuckled, "-I just figured they might be noticeable, they are on a registered list and closely watched now. Those who are registered, that is, the rest are probably on the run somewhere. I heard about it quite a lot in America, they think it's quite barbaric there." Jesse lied sounding very matter-of-fact. He had no clue how the American's saw it, but he hoped that somewhere in the world they would see how unjust this truly was. "I've even heard they've been removed from Hogwarts, no longer allowed to practice magic there...." It baffled him that she hadn't heard of this. Was there more people who were so clueless about the terrible treatment of his kind? More people who didn't give two-shits about him busting his ass in those magic mines, harvesting their crystals and jewels.

As the keep went about grabbing his books he took the first one from her and nodded as she asked if it sounded like the right book. As far as he knew, it was. The next was his charms book which he piled on top of the other. Once again he nodded as she spoke, his spirits lifted with each book he received. It felt good to carry them in his arms again. As she trailed off he quickly interjected, "Potions, Transfiguration and Dark Arts....unless they've changed it back to Defense Against the Dark Arts...I'm not quite sure." He had heard from one of his old class mates a couple months back that they had changed it to Dark Arts only, he had scoffed at the time. Of course they wouldn't want the students to rise up again, it was a good maneuver to take away their ability to defend themselves. He dreamed of a group of students creating another uprising, like he had heard the Order had once done.

She nodded politely, finding some small national pride in the boy’s preference of the British books over the Americans. She wasn’t at home in Britain - technically she was, but it didn’t feel like it - and yet, it was her mother’s country of birth, and therefore to be preferred to something as remote as America. ”Oh, in Italy,” she answered cheerily. ”In una piccola, piccola scuola, scusi.” She put a hand before her mouth. She didn’t switch language as often as she used to, but sometimes it just happened. ”A very small school. In a mountain village where there about three of us per year, and the teachers would travel between the different villages. Or sometimes they’d send us around for larger projects. It’s different in the towns, but I don’t know that much about they handle things down there. It’s very familial among us, it’s difficult to understand if you didn’t grow up like that.”

The only two categories for human beings Gioconda had ever cared for were whether someone was from a village or from a town. In Italy, it was the most important division, maybe even more important than the one between north and south. In England, she knew that things worked very differently, but she had never cared for the exact how - content with estimating it would be along the lines of north Italian townsfolk. But Muggleborns in Italy were normally sent to live in the villages at a very young age so that even the north Italians (of who it was said that they were not all too fond of Muggleborns) tended to simply view them as ”from the villages”. But from disliking Muggleborns to denying their rights it was a long way, and if she wasn’t misunderstanding her young customer that was exactly what he accused the British wizarding community of doing. ”I think the right to education is universal,” she said after some deliberation. ”I don’t think that it would be legal to forbid them to attend Hogwarts. That’d be against their human rights.” Human rights were a Muggle invention, but at least the Italian magical institutions had once released an official statement that it was also valid for their community - she could remember the discussions from when she was a very young girl.

”Dark… yes, Dark Arts, it’s what it’s called,” she confirmed, ignoring the knot of uncomfortableness that had suddenly formed in her stomach. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how shaky her fingers were when she gingerly removed the book from the shelf. ”It’s this - this one. Aliester Cromwell. Drawing on the Modern: Practicing Dark Arts in the 21st Century.” She had skimmed through the book last summer and had been shocked. She didn’t know much about regulations or forbidden magic in general, but she had a very strong feeling that this book would be forbidden in several European countries. There certainly had been attempts to ban Dark magic, especially after Grindelwald, that much she remembered from her history classes. Maybe these developments had never crossed the channel. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, Grindelwald never terrorized Britain. That might explain their more casual treatment of curses that had been outlawed by a majority of European countries. At least she had never heard of any spell in this book and even less inclination to change anything about her state.

She closed her eyes for a moment to remind herself that she was at work and not in an ethic seminar. Her personal feelings had absolutely nothing to do with the Hogwarts curriculum. She didn’t have any children, thank you very much, and even if she had, she wouldn’t send them away at the young age of eleven to a school where the weirdest events had already occurred. ”Right,” she said. ”Divination, Charms, Dark Arts. That leaves Potion… Libatius Borage, Libatius Borage, where are you Libatius?” It was one of the older books on the set list, she had checked the date of publishing which was about fifty years in the past. That didn’t explain why she couldn’t see it at the moment, it was still being reprinted. No, this had happened to her repeatedly in the summer too. Where were the books she had always trouble finding? They were always in the same spot. She made a step backwards and pressed a hand against her forehead to help herself thinking.

GOODBYE GRACEFUL, I'M SO GRATEFUl

YOU HELPED TO CHANGE MY WICKED WAYS

Italy, what a beautiful place. Or so he had heard from friends. He, of course, had never been there himself. Growing up poor and being bounced around foster homes he never really left south eastern England, aside from his travels to and from Hogwarts. His world was small, growing smaller by the day. Once in a while, as he laid in the shambles of his apartment, he dreamed of what it would be like to run away. Plenty of muggleborns had run away, plenty he knew, he had heard of a place in France that was a sort of safe haven for his kind. In the still of the early morning hours he had planned his escape there many times, to other places as well. No doubt he would be dreaming of a little Italian town with a three student magical class.

The only thing keeping him around was the hope that one day, fingers crossed, things could go back to the way they were. He didn't want to cause any waves, or get himself in trouble and risk being permanently removed from the wizarding community. Jesse figured that the Ministry had tricks up their sleeves for those who avoided their laws, he figured that they would obliterate them, send them back to the muggle world having no memory of Hogwarts, of magic, or of the injustices faced there. That was a fate he was not prepared to face. They could take everything from him if they wanted. They could take the floor out from under him, the shirt off his back, but they would not, could not, take his magic.

"That sounds quite nice," he smiled softly, "I bet you miss it. Italy, that is." Jesse shifted the books in his arms and cast a glance out of the shop window. The rain still persisted and he began to feel uneasy about the amount of time he was spending in the store, though he was enjoying the woman's conversation. It beat listening to the filthy mouthed miners any day. "I'm sure the weather was much nicer than here," he joked, returning his gaze to the woman as she searched for his books.

Another book joined the stack he held in front of his body and he held in a shutter. When he began his schooling Dark Arts were not allowed, only the defense against them and now...Now they taught every child the dark spells. Eleven year old children were learning these spells. Jesse's lips turned down slightly in a scowling frown. "I can't believe they actually teach this now," the thought had slipped from his mouth. The scariest part was that they taught the kids the dark spells, but not how to counter them. And who is the very best in dark magic? Only the wack jobs running the ministry right now. The very thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth. "Do you happen to still sell the....the old text books? Defense books?"

Jesse shrugged, an innocent smile on his face, "I wouldn't mind some extra reading, at least something that coincides with what I was learning back in the U.S."