Jacob returned to his cubicle with a Muggle notebook page full of ideas under one arm, his customary mug of Earl Grey in one hand, a book of French in the other, the taste of blueberry muffin in his mouth, and Miley’s words repeating in his ears. Something about her voice was just so captivating, although Jacob refused to admit it to himself. Miley’s voice caught in his mind like spiderwebs. Not drab and dusty cobwebs such as you might find under a stair, but crisp and clear-spun miracles hung with dew drops that brought diamonds to mind.

He took a sip of tea to clear his head and settled in his seat. Bringing out his best writing supplies, Jacob arranged his notes and ideas off to one side, placing the French book tauntingly in the corner. Though his hands itched to open it and start learning, Jacob instead took up his best parchment, finest quill, and blackest ink.

The quill was tall and imposing, black or blue or purple or red depending on the light, and often a mix of several colors. Jacob hoped it would somehow help him write this report. Why had he agreed to write this on behalf of the Division, again?

It took Jacob five minutes of thinking before he dipped the quill in the black-hole ink; five times he scratched out what he had written before satisfied with the introduction. If Ms. Bass wasn’t convinced to take any of their ideas, then the chances of France accepting them were next to nothing.

It went on like this for some time, with Jacob writing and scratching out and referring to notes and glancing over his ideas and the ideas of other Division members. After about an hour, Jacob felt he had a passable report. He rewrote it on a new piece of parchment, tapped it with his wand and sent the little paper plane to Ms. Bass’s office.

With an almost weary sigh, Jacob sat back in his chair with his tea (still hot – he had finally decided to spell it to stay that way) and took his second sip from that mug-full. Holding his French book open with one hand and his tea in the other, Jacob put his feet up on the top of his desk, pushed his leg-less chair into a reclining position, and proceeded to teach himself French.