■■■ groak
______young teenager | elite gymnastics trainee

Q watched her boyfriend eat his pancakes intently. She couldn’t have pancakes now, she had gymnastics training early tomorrow morning. Her coach could always tell when she’d had too many carbs the day before, and she wasn’t in the mood for long lectures about healthy eating. She was thin, she was fit, whatever.

But she really wanted those pancakes.

Benzi waved his fork in front of her eyes. "Serial groaker, you are," he said, shaking his head as he wolfed down yet another massive portion of pancakes. Q watched him take her plate, cut up a decent portion of his dessert, put far too much maple syrup on top and grinned as he handed it back to her.

Best boyfriend, hands down.

"You’re very handsome when you give me your food," Q remarked as she dug into her portion, a very happy camper. "By the way, don't forget, you promised that you'd come over this weekend. Mum and Dad are having the Wallaces over and I want to introduce you to Noel. He's got this band, they need a drummer. I think you guys will like each other."

■■■ dawn
______mid-20's | first months at doge, dillonsby and bones

At some point in the night, Q wondered what time it was. The clock on her wall said nine pm, but it's been saying that for weeks. Her phone was flung face down on the bed, too far away to grab. Her own wrist watch was in the bathroom still. For all she knew, it could still be early.

Quinn yawned, a bone shattering movement that made her body ache with effort. The research she had completed was on her right, a pile taller than her lamp. The rolls of parchment and legal muggle documents she had yet to read perched precariously on her immediate left, three separate piles holding each other up.

It was Friday night. The research needed to be done by Saturday noon. If she still had a few hours, she could even fit in a few hours of sleep before her breakfast plans. A pigeon cooed outside her window and the exhausted lawyer look up, confused. Through strained, bloodshot eyes she noted the sky was a light turquoise.

Ah. Dawn. So that's the time. It was Saturday morning.

Grabbing her phone, she cancelled breakfast. Work first, life second.

■■■ slick
______mid-20's | litigator at doge, dillonsby and bones

"Ewww Q," Inara exclaimed as she touched the oiled counter, and Q flicked her hand away with a stern word. She watched the chastised seven year old as she went to the sink, stood on the tips of her toes and washed her hands.

"Very good. Now, be careful, the floor is slick too," Q sighed. She’s never letting her friends stay over alone in her place ever again. She’s never going to call them friends again either.

Inara scratched her nose. "What does slick mean?" the annoyingly adorable seven year old asked, looking down with such suspicion that Q had to laugh.

"Well, you tell me." She dried her hands and carefully walked out of her kitchen to fetch one of her electronic dictionaries. Beckoning Inara closer, she typed in the word "slick" and held it out for Inara to read. Best babysitter award, anyone?

Inara’s eyes widened and she let out a small giggle, pointing beneath the descriptions. "YOU'RE slick Q! Like the muddy kitchen floor!"

Ah, right. Of course. "Big corporations and their slick lawyers". Slick lawyer, present. Thank you, Merriam Webster, for being no help at all.

■■■ timeturner
______mid-20's | junior litigator at doge, dillonsby and bones

"How did he even get a timeturner?" her coworker asked as they all huddled over a client's charges. It was the second time that question had been asked, and Q considered the narrowmindedness of these so called lawyers. Imagine thinking there was a world outside London.

"Smuggled in, likely from China," her voice cut through the conversation, and she struggled not to roll her eyes at the quiet that ensured. Yes, the squib is talking. Groundbreaking stuff. "It explains the Jin dynasty antiquities he owns too."

"But weren't they all destroyed?"

This was embarrassing for him. Q handed over the law on timeturners. "The ones in the British Isles were, yes. And outlawed, a few years after the second wizarding war. The rest of the world did no such thing. Chinese use of time travel is rampant, chinese warlocks have been illegally travelling back to Imperial China to nick genuine artifacts for years." Q produced an English version of Le Monde Sorcier, her favourite international wizarding newspaper, and placed it on the table.

"There was an article about it just last week," she added, and smiled at the incredulous looks. "Thought it might be relevant."

Quinn: 5, wandwavers: 0.

■■■ cuckoo
______various ages | n/a

Little Quinny used to own a cuckoo clock. Her parents had bought it for her when she was four. Every hour, the little wooden bird would come flying out and tickle her as it cooed the time. She loved that clock dearly, and told her parents that she wanted to be a clockmaker when she grew up. Little Quinny used to own a cuckoo clock. Her parents had bought it for her when she was four. Every hour, the little wooden bird would come flying out and tickle her as it cooed the time. She loved that clock dearly, and told her parents that she wanted to be a clockmaker when she grew up. "I want to charm wooden cuckoos like that!"

Of course, back then she was only little. She didn't know.

Quinn next saw a cuckoo at the zoo, and it was a real one this time. She peered at the birds as they flew around in their large cage, and couldn't explain her sudden sadness. "I don't like my name," she'd said, and felt it to be true. "Just call me Q."

There was a cuckoo clock at Mungo's too, in the children's ward. Q was nine and a half by then; they'd gone to see a specialist. She stared at the wooden birdhouse as the Healers waved their wands with grave expressions. The clock was broken. She was there for three hours, and it didn't cuckoo once.

What a stupid clock. If the bird was in there, why didn't it work?

■■■ future
______ early 20's | lawyer and student

When she'd look back at this period of her life, Q wondered if she'd actually remember anything that happened during this hellish year.

It's not enough that she was born in the wizarding world but belonged to the muggle one. It's not enough that she couldn't let either go completely. She had to actively make her life a living hell trying to prove she was capable of simultaneously being both halves of herself at any point.

Her law degree had been a raging success. Top marks, best vocational training, nice people around her. She was smart and she knew her stuff and she was a rising star.

But Q was a squib, which meant that she'd only ever be half a star. To be a full star, Q needed to be well versed in Magical Law as well. Because of course.

Infuriated with herself, Q stared miserably down at the Wizengamot Veela vs Vampire case of 1879 and almost sobbed. She couldn't have been happy with muggle law, complicated enough as it is. She'd just had to secure a prolonged miserable future for herself as well.

Typical Q.

■■■ pureblood
______eighteen | student

Q fainted in Diagon Alley.

It was a trying time in her life; between school, social troubles and gymnastics training Q had no time to think. Intentional, but taxing on her health. Fainting was a side hazard, but it was better than letting her brain dwell.

The good citizens of the alley tried to revive her with spells but, naturally, they hadn't worked. Someone decided to take her to Mungo's, and that was where she woke five hours later.

"Miss Chambers?"

"Yes."

"Miss Chambers, there is something wrong with your bloodwork. And your records, we don't seem to have an adequate history of-"

"Let me go, I-"

"You fainted and nothing revived you. I think they seemed to make you worse," the agitated young healer spoke.

"That's because I'm-"

"And we tried a new potion," the healer pressed on, "just approved by the Society. Some pureblood families have- Are you a pureblood Miss Chambers?"

She sighed. "Yes."

The healer looked even more stressed, and it infuriated her.

"I'm also a squib. That's why you don't have records."

The healer gaped, and she shakily stood by herself.

"I'll go get real medical attention now. Thanks for nothing, as usual."

■■■ era
______adult | junior litigator at doge, dillonsby and bones

Her routine was set up like clockwork. Work, read, date, work. She loathed dating and despised her coworkers, but the first was necessary and the second an evil she's adjusted to.

Recently, a new habit had creeped up on her. Every few weeks she'd go on a double date with the same four people. The same three magic folk. Technically, none of them were dating. Technically, the 'couples' often flipped. Technically, they were her best friends. It was wild.

Benzi and Amrita were both aurors, and newly minted partners. She liked to refer to Amrita as Benzi's work wife, which he didn't seem to find as amusing. She and Altair had been close friends for a while. Amrita and Altair were platonic spouses, in her opinion. And Benzi was her best friend, as unsettling and unpredictable as that was.

Q sipped her wine and watched her three friends laugh at some terrible joke. She felt an overwhelming rush of affection for them, and for this new habit. This new era in her life. She had never had friends like Altair, Amrita and Benz before. A group. She really liked this era. She's pretty sure she'll keep it.

■■■ judgement
______twelfth birthday | an almost-muggle

"But why was he in my room?!" Q screeched, looking at her scorched bed, her singed clothes, the smell of burnt plastic still clinging to the air.

"Quinn…" her father warned, and Q seethed.

"This ISN'T fair Dad, why was Alex in MY room??" It was SO hard to be sympathetic when her room smelled of acrid plastic fumes! UGH.

"Quinny?" she heard a small voice say, and turned to see her eight year old brother, ashen faced and tear stained.

"WHAT." Q spit out, unable to help herself.

Biting his lip to keep from crying, Alex gingerly reached into his pocket to pull out a birthday card. Q's heart sank. "Mummy said… said I should put it b-by your bed.." he wibbled, and only let himself be led away by the healers once she took the charred parchment from him.

Gingerly, Q opened the card.

"Hi Quinny!! I know you're not magic but you're the most magical person I know! More than Mum and Dad but don't tell them! You're the best sister ever and you always make me feel normal even when I'm not.
Happy birthday Q!

Love,
Alexander Ivan Chambers."

■■■ chocolate
___& quarantine
______teenager | elite gymnastics trainee

Merlin's. Soggy. Silvery. Stinky. BEARD.

Q fumed as she paced around her room, again, for three hours now, again, for the fifth consecutive day in a row. Her fever broke two days ago, and her throat felt fine, so what was the hold up?? She is definitely blaming this on healers. Doctors would NEVER be this paranoid. It's not like this specific strain of whatever virus she ha, could be harmful to her parents or to Alex. They're magic! They have their potions or whatever, they wouldn't even feel it.

But nooooo, she had to stay in her room with her phone and a mat so she could keep fit, because "priorities", and die not of sickness but of BOREDOM.

Frustrated and HURT BEYOND MEASURE by her parents, all the healers in the world AND her own trainer who had done absolute zilch to help, Q marched to her table and broke off another sizeable slab of chocolate from the 400g piece that was shrinking by the minute. She'd persuaded her mother to go get her favourite honeycomb chocolate from Harrods, but even that would not last the day.

"I WILL NEVER SPEAK TO ANY OF YOU EVER AGAIN."

UGH.

■■■ butterbeer
______mid-20's | junior litigator at doge, dillonsby and bones

Of course her client wanted to meet in Hogsmeade. Of course the meeting had been bumped up. Of course she needed to use the dreaded floo network. Because why should a day at work be easy.

Q stepped out of the Three Broomsticks' fireplace feeling nauseous, grumpy and covered in soot. She barely managed to keep from falling as she wobbled to the bathrooms to clean herself up. No magic cleaning for her.

As she reemerged and looked around, reality sunk in.

The lawyer slowly stepped out onto the main street, her head spinning. She couldn't help but imagine herself as a teenager here, in green coloured robes, complaining about boys and homework and- Q gasped.

Hogwarts.

Ancient buried feelings threatened to resurface and she sprinted back to the pub as fast as she could. She had a meeting. A client. Work. She would order herself a plain, magicless coffee, go over her notes. She was fine. Perfectly fine. She's always been fine.

But when she approached the bartender, Quinn Chambers heard herself ask for a glass of butterbeer instead. And when her fingers wrapped around the beverage, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

Fine. Just this once.