"Ethan!" Coby's voice cracked through the air like a whip, sharp with urgency and something that might have been emotion.
Ethan turned, his hand already on the door handle, to find the house-elf standing in the center of the shop. Coby held a small velvet box with the reverence usually reserved for sacred relics, his tennis-ball eyes unusually solemn.
"What is it, Coby?" Ethan asked, setting down his battered leather satchel and crouching to meet the elf's gaze. "Is everything alright?"
"Mistress Gemini is asking Coby to give you this," the house-elf said, his usually shrill voice dropping to something almost whisper-soft. "She is saying that since you are not liking goodbyes, she will not be appearing. But you must be keeping this with you always, always! If danger is coming, you must be turning the center stone!"
Coby opened the box with trembling fingers, revealing a necklace that seemed to capture moonlight in its silver links. The pendant was a sapphire the color of deep ocean waters, cut with facets that caught the shop's warm lighting and threw it back in brilliant fragments. Even at rest, the gem seemed to pulse with contained magic.
Ethan stared at the necklace, understanding flooding through him. This wasn't just jewelry—it was a lifeline. A Portkey that would bring him home with a simple twist of the stone. Gemini had crafted him a way back, no matter how far his research might take him.
"She made this herself, didn't she?" he asked quietly.
Coby nodded vigorously. "Mistress Gemini is working on it for three days! Coby is bringing her tea and she is not drinking! Coby is bringing her food and she is not eating! Only working, working, working until it is perfect for Ethan!"
The weight of that sacrifice settled in Ethan's chest like a physical thing. He lifted the necklace with hands that weren't quite steady, feeling the warmth of magic thrumming through the silver. When he fastened it around his neck, the sapphire settled against his chest like a second heartbeat.
"Tell her," he said, his voice rougher than intended, "tell her this place will always be my second home. And I will come back."
Coby's ears drooped, but he managed a watery smile. "Coby will be cleaning your room! Coby will be keeping everything perfect for when Ethan is returning! Even if Coby is not caring if you are coming back!" The last part was delivered with such transparent bravado that Ethan couldn't help but smile.
"I know you will, Coby. Thank you."
The house-elf disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Ethan alone with the weight of departure. He tucked the sapphire beneath his shirt, gathered his belongings, and took one last look around the All-Purpose Shop. Every corner held memories now—late nights helping customers, Gemini's patient explanations of magical theory, Coby's enthusiastic assistance with everything from inventory to emotional support.
With a deep breath that tasted of magic and possibility, Ethan walked out into the Brooklyn morning.
From her perch on the second-floor balcony, Gemini watched him go. She remained motionless until his figure disappeared into a waiting car at the intersection, swallowed by the city that had brought him to her in the first place.
"Mistress," Coby appeared beside her chair, his voice small and confused. "Why is you not asking Ethan to stay? He is good Muggle! Different from others! He is understanding magic!"
Gemini lifted her teacup with hands that barely trembled, though the liquid had long since gone cold. "Because that was his choice to make, Coby. Ethan is a free person—brilliant, curious, and meant for great things. I won't cage someone's dreams just because I've grown fond of having them around. That's what Dark Lords do, not friends."
She took a sip of bitter tea and continued, "If we truly care about someone, we let them choose their own path. Even when it leads away from us."
Coby looked unconvinced but nodded reluctantly. "Coby is understanding, Mistress."
"Good. Now, about the Parker family—they'll need extra support while they adjust. And Peter..." Gemini's expression sharpened with purpose. "He's going to be a Hogwarts student, Coby. The first American child I've managed to redirect from MACUSA's clutches. We need a dedicated house-elf to watch over him—someone from the House-Elf Employment Agency."
Coby's reaction was immediate and dramatic. His ears went rigid with shock, his eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks, and his voice rose to a pitch that could shatter glass.
"MISTRESS! Why is you wanting to hire those... those INFERIOR BEINGS! Is Coby not doing good work? Is Coby disappointing you? Coby can be watching Peter! Coby can be doing everything!"
Gemini rubbed her temples, already regretting not handling this conversation more delicately. "Coby, you're perfect. You're the best house-elf I could ever ask for. But you're my house-elf. If you're following Peter around all day, who's going to take care of me? Who's going to manage the shop? Should I rely on hired help for my own needs?"
The logic hit Coby like a revelation. His chest puffed out with renewed pride, his tears evaporating as quickly as they'd appeared.
"NO! Coby is Mistress Gemini's house-elf! Coby must be putting Mistress first, always first! Coby will be hiring those... those ADEQUATE BUT INFERIOR house-elves! They can be doing simple work like watching children! Coby will be doing IMPORTANT work for Mistress!"
He vanished with a particularly emphatic pop, leaving Gemini to wonder if she'd just made the situation better or infinitely more complicated.
The Next Morning
With Coby's supernatural efficiency, the Parker family's relocation happened with the smooth precision of a military operation. May had spent hours designing their new living space, her imagination finally given free rein in rooms that could reshape themselves to match her dreams. By dawn, they were settled, and Ben stood behind the All-Purpose Shop's counter at precisely 9 AM, wearing the expression of someone determined to prove himself worthy of magical trust.
The morning bell had barely finished chiming when his first customer pushed through the door.
"Ethan!" The man was middle-aged and comfortably round, with the kind of confidence that came from being a regular anywhere. "Glory Potion, my friend! I've got a date with destiny—or at least with Margaret from accounting!"
Ben turned with the practiced smile he'd perfected during years of customer service in less magical establishments. "Good morning! I'm Ben Parker, the new shop clerk. Ethan has moved on to pursue other opportunities, but I'm here to help with all your magical needs."
The customer barely paused in his enthusiasm. "Glory Potion—you know the drill? Make me irresistible for exactly four hours, no side effects, money-back guarantee if I don't get at least three compliments on my appearance?"
Ben consulted Ethan's meticulously organized notes and produced the required contract with growing confidence. The customer signed with a flourish, his credit card transaction went through without incident, and Ben retrieved a bottle of shimmering golden liquid from the climate-controlled potion cabinet.
"Enjoy your date," Ben said, handing over the Glory Potion with what he hoped was appropriate professional discretion.
"Oh, I will!" the customer called over his shoulder, already heading for the door with a spring in his step that suggested the potion's confidence-boosting effects were purely psychological—and entirely effective.
Ben allowed himself a moment of quiet pride. One transaction down, and he hadn't accidentally poisoned anyone or violated any magical laws. Progress.
The rest of the morning passed in peaceful study. Ben immersed himself in Ethan's comprehensive customer database, learning the subtle differences between Healing Draughts and Restorative Elixirs, memorizing the proper storage requirements for Moonstone Powder, and trying not to think too hard about exactly how Dragon Heartstring was ethically sourced.
Lunch arrived courtesy of Coby, who materialized in their apartment with a spread that would have impressed a five-star restaurant. May had taken Peter to school and was spending the day updating his enrollment information and exploring job opportunities in their new neighborhood, leaving Ben to eat alone while mentally rehearsing responses to increasingly exotic customer requests.
The afternoon brought drowsiness. The shop maintained a perfect temperature that seemed designed to encourage napping, and the gentle hum of magical preservation charms created a lullaby effect that had Ben's eyelids growing heavy.
The door chime startled him back to alertness.
"Welcome to the All-Purpose Shop!" Ben called out, straightening behind the counter. "How can I help you today?"
The figure in the doorway was backlit by afternoon sun, creating a silhouette that spoke of careful grooming and expensive tailoring. When the door closed and Ben's eyes adjusted, he found himself looking at a young man who seemed to have stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine—golden hair that caught light like spun metal, eyes the color of winter sky, and features that belonged on classical sculptures.
"Good afternoon," the stranger said, his accent carrying hints of old European nobility. "I believe I was a patient here recently, though I must confess my memories of the experience are... fragmentary. I've come to express my gratitude to the proprietor."
Ben frowned, mentally reviewing Ethan's client files. This man's face wasn't familiar, and someone this distinctive would have been memorable. "I'm sorry, but could you help me verify your visit? We take client confidentiality very seriously."
The stranger's smile was rueful, almost embarrassed. "I understand your caution. From what I've been told, I arrived in rather... unusual circumstances. Unconscious, I believe, and transported in some sort of container?"
Recognition dawned like sunrise. Ben remembered the entry now—one of only two late-night emergency cases in Ethan's records. The other had been Dr. Banner, and this definitely wasn't the mild-mannered scientist from the basement laboratory.
"Of course," Ben said, his professional wariness giving way to genuine hospitality. "Please, have a seat. I'll check with Miss Black to see if she's available to meet with you."
The stranger settled gracefully into the chair by the window, accepting the tea Ben offered with the kind of natural courtesy that suggested aristocratic upbringing. As Ben headed for the stairs, he caught a glimpse of the man's reflection in the shop window—perfectly composed, perfectly still, and somehow perfectly dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with obvious threat.
Gemini was going to find this very interesting indeed.
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