Eid money and a bakery run
The apartment was bustling with energy as everyone worked together, preparing the food, setting the table, and sharing in the excitement of the coming holiday. The Marauders, still adjusting to the whirlwind of customs and traditions, had been a bit awkward at first, but now, they were beginning to find their rhythm.
The smell of the freshly baked Eid biscuits was tantalizing, but there was just one problem: the oven at the apartment wasn’t big enough to bake the dozens of biscuits they’d made. Nabeela had a solution, though. With a gleam in her eye, she handed each of the Marauders a large, heavy tray filled with unbaked biscuits.
“Take these to the bakery down the street,” she instructed with a knowing smile. “They’ll bake them for you. It’s a big oven there, big enough to handle all of these. Go now, and don’t forget to bring them back in time for iftar.”
The Marauders nodded, eager to contribute and help with the preparations, but there was one more thing Nabeela needed to address before they left. She turned to the boys, her face softening as she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out five crisp bills.
“This is for you,” she said, pressing one 50-pound note into each of their hands. “Eid money. A little something for each of you. Take it, and may it bring you blessings.”
The Marauders stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond to such a generous gesture. Nabeela, however, simply smiled warmly and took their silence as appreciation. Severus was the first to recover from his surprise. His eyes softened as he looked at the money in his hand, then at Nabeela, and before anyone could stop him, he stood up and kissed her hand in thanks.
“Thank you,” Severus said, his voice full of warmth and gratitude. “You are very kind.”
The other Marauders were taken aback by the gesture, their confusion shifting to curiosity. Nabeela nodded graciously and placed a gentle hand on Severus’s shoulder.
“You are all welcome,” she said softly, smiling at each of them in turn. “Now, go on. Bring the biscuits to the bakery.”
As they made their way out of the apartment, still processing the unexpected gesture, Severus turned to explain.
“Eid money,” he began, his voice steady but carrying a note of fondness. “It’s a tradition during Eid, given by the elders to the younger members of the family. It’s a kind of gift to celebrate the holiday. It’s usually the oldest members of the household who give it—the parents, the grandparents, sometimes even the uncles and aunts.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “So that’s why Nabeela gave it to everyone? Even her daughter’s husband?”
“Exactly,” Severus nodded. “It’s a way of sharing the joy of Eid with everyone, no matter how young or old they are. Even though they may be grown, they still receive Eid money because they’re still part of the family. It’s a reminder of the connection and care between generations.”
Peter looked at the bill in his hand, slightly overwhelmed by the generosity. “So, it’s like… an allowance?”
Severus chuckled softly. “Not quite. It’s more like a gift—a blessing, really. It’s not meant for anything specific, just a way to show love and appreciation. It’s a small but significant part of the holiday.”
Remus nodded, taking in Severus’s explanation. “That’s beautiful. It’s like… a reminder of community and family.”
Severus smiled softly. “Yes. Exactly.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, the weight of the 50-pound bills in their hands a silent reminder of the bond they were beginning to form with this family. Even though they didn’t understand every tradition, every custom, or every word of Arabic spoken, they were beginning to feel like they were part of something larger than themselves. The generosity, the warmth, and the sense of community in Egypt had begun to open their eyes to a different way of life—one rooted in connection, love, and giving.
As they approached the bakery, they could see the warm glow of the oven through the window. The smell of fresh bread and pastries wafted out, and the sound of customers chatting in the busy shop filled the air. Severus led the way into the bakery, and the Marauders followed, each of them still carrying their trays of unbaked biscuits. The baker, an older man with a bushy white beard and a thick mustache, waved them over and immediately began preparing to take the trays.
“This will take some time,” he said in broken English, but with a friendly smile. “Come back in an hour. Your biscuits will be ready then.”
As they waited outside the bakery, the Marauders exchanged glances, still processing the whirlwind of experiences they were having. For Severus, it was just another moment in a long line of experiences that connected him to this world—a world that was both familiar and new, strange and beautiful. He didn’t need Eid money or grand gestures to feel like he belonged; the small moments, the kindnesses, the simple acts of community were enough to remind him that he was home.
The Marauders, for their part, were starting to see it too. The longer they stayed, the more they realized how little they truly understood about Egypt, and how much they had to learn. But for now, as they stood in the cool air outside the bakery, the sense of peace and belonging that filled the air was enough. They were here, together, sharing in something bigger than themselves.
And that, they realized, was something worth celebrating.