In Cassiopeia’s opinion, the less that was said about muggle notions of fictional witches, the better. She was quite aware of the caricature of the ugly old woman with warts on her disproportionately large nose, and took it as evidence of the attitude most muggles had towards magic. Mr Jarvis didn’t go so far as to compare her to that image, though, and he believed her, and hadn’t reacted poorly. It made him a rare exception among muggles, she thought, but before she could spend too long congratulating herself on her good judgement of his character, he asked her that question.
It was innocent. She could see that from his eager expression, but she looked uncomfortable all the same, and clasped her hands in her lap.
‘It isn’t that it’s a terribly forward question, Mr Jarvis,’ she said quietly. ‘It just isn’t something to- you see, magic is integral to our culture and our way of life. It’s important.’ It wasn’t for the entertainment of muggles, to be seen as a clever parlour trick, and the wizards at the Everdale fair who had thought otherwise had almost distressed her with their performances.
‘I imagine,’ she went on, carefully, ‘that you will see some everyday magic, someday. Certainly if you and Mrs Jarvis would care to join me for tea at home sometime then you will see how a magical household functions. But it really isn’t something I am quite comfortable demonstrating here for a non-magical spectator.’ It was as gentle a refusal as she could make it. His curiosity was natural, perhaps, but to indulge it was unthinkable.