"She is a professional," Alfred retorted defensively. He hadn't missed the implication in Evander's words that this had been some sort of hodge-podge fix, and he was offended on Zelda's behalf. She was good at what she did — at least in his estimation, which admittedly might not have counted for much. He'd spent years, after all, with only one wand that was prone to backfiring whenever he attempted something, so he was hardly a magical genius himself. Although he'd picked up a few bits of wandless magic from the tribe they'd been living with, he mostly just did without, and he had kept up that sort of lifestyle after returning to England as well. It wouldn't have taken much to impress him — but that didn't mean she wasn't impressive, on its own.

He realized only after the words had left his mouth that he'd betrayed one of the details he'd intended to keep to himself: the 'friend' who had come to fix his flat was a she. His cheeks colored slightly, but he couldn't take the word back. Maybe if he just pressed on, Evander wouldn't remark on it. "We haven't had any more problems since then. It's been over a month."