“Solid, indeed,” Trystan agreed, not about to criticise an entirely reasonable tale. “But I think salvageable, even after the eyebrow fiasco -” he waved a hand before she could protest, pretending to lean forwards in confidentiality, and affecting a higher-pitched voice, “‘By the way, do my eyebrows look okay? I tried a new eyebrow wax from Witch Weekly this morning.’’ He shook his head slightly in acceptance that a silly improvisation like that might not have spared her against paranoid hardened criminals, but with that welcome witch? It would gone down a treat.
And if Abernathy learned one single thing from him before she went undercover, it was not a charm or an invisibility spell, but the rule that freezing up was the worst thing she could do undercover in the field. Whoever she looked like, she could never, never, never appear panicked.
But she was not a complete newcomer, thank Merlin, so he would let that sink in on its own; no sense in hammering that home as he sometimes did to the fresh first-year trainees to make them understand the stakes of the job. (Abernathy understood them better than most, probably, given all she had been through already this year.)
“But look, here,” Trystan relented, cutting her enough slack to be briefly gentle about it. Without needing to look in the gilding of the fireplaces or gaze into the fountain’s reflection to be confident he had done it, he demonstrated the spell - aloud, for her benefit - with a certain deliberateness to the wand flick, turning his own eyebrows a white-blond that probably made him look ridiculous. “If it’s the eyebrow spell getting you down, think sideways - if you’ve got a block with the colour-change charm, try inalbeo” - the incantation of a lightening charm instead, which would at least serve in this instance, to soften the hue of her eyebrows - “or vice versa.” A patchwork of abilities might have to do, at such short notice, and besides, it never hurt to have a failsafe option up her sleeve.
They could work on the shrinking spell for her height next. “The benefit of doing it all by spellwork,” he added, trying to cheer her up slightly about all the work she was having to put in before she even started her undercover assignment, “as opposed to relying on Polyjuice,” (besides having to be someone, and not an entirely fake identity), “is that once you have the hang of it again you won’t need to worry about topping them up nearly as often.” The rest of her hair seemed a strong spell, would last hours longer than a bit of potion. “And they’re much easier to recast in a pinch.” Even with a ready supply of Polyjuice by the department, there was no promising that she would always have a secret flask about to drink from on the hour. Even in the most dire circumstances, if she were as strong an Auror as she seemed, she’d probably still have her wand to hand, and thus have nothing to worry about.
And if Abernathy learned one single thing from him before she went undercover, it was not a charm or an invisibility spell, but the rule that freezing up was the worst thing she could do undercover in the field. Whoever she looked like, she could never, never, never appear panicked.
But she was not a complete newcomer, thank Merlin, so he would let that sink in on its own; no sense in hammering that home as he sometimes did to the fresh first-year trainees to make them understand the stakes of the job. (Abernathy understood them better than most, probably, given all she had been through already this year.)
“But look, here,” Trystan relented, cutting her enough slack to be briefly gentle about it. Without needing to look in the gilding of the fireplaces or gaze into the fountain’s reflection to be confident he had done it, he demonstrated the spell - aloud, for her benefit - with a certain deliberateness to the wand flick, turning his own eyebrows a white-blond that probably made him look ridiculous. “If it’s the eyebrow spell getting you down, think sideways - if you’ve got a block with the colour-change charm, try inalbeo” - the incantation of a lightening charm instead, which would at least serve in this instance, to soften the hue of her eyebrows - “or vice versa.” A patchwork of abilities might have to do, at such short notice, and besides, it never hurt to have a failsafe option up her sleeve.
They could work on the shrinking spell for her height next. “The benefit of doing it all by spellwork,” he added, trying to cheer her up slightly about all the work she was having to put in before she even started her undercover assignment, “as opposed to relying on Polyjuice,” (besides having to be someone, and not an entirely fake identity), “is that once you have the hang of it again you won’t need to worry about topping them up nearly as often.” The rest of her hair seemed a strong spell, would last hours longer than a bit of potion. “And they’re much easier to recast in a pinch.” Even with a ready supply of Polyjuice by the department, there was no promising that she would always have a secret flask about to drink from on the hour. Even in the most dire circumstances, if she were as strong an Auror as she seemed, she’d probably still have her wand to hand, and thus have nothing to worry about.
