"I mean, it's better than the sixties, yeah. Wow you guys don't even have computers, do you. Well, like, real ones. Or phones." His phone came with him. It's kinda large and chunky, for 1999, but surely it's a marvel of technology in '64.

"That's a phone? How's it get the message through without a wire?"

"I dunno, cellphone radiation. I'm not a physicist. Also too much magic breaks electronics so it's not great, I can't take it to Hogwarts with me and have to send letters to mum. Via owl.—oh, Richard is gonna miss me, too. My owl, that is."

"Not for long he's not, we're going to get back there. Come on, I'll introduce you to the Kents."

With a whirl of movement that stirs the hay on the floor, Xan's wearing his overalls, which are noticeably tented and still showing a lot of skin but technically more appropriate than his birthday suit. Then he strolls out of the barn towards the farmhouse.

Sadde follows.

He opens the door and leads Sadde in. "Ma'am, there's, uh, somebody you should meet?"

An aging woman walks out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "I've told you- oh, my, who's this?"

"Name's Sadde. He, uh, appeared suddenly? And he's not from this world. I was wondering if we could put him up until I can get him back to his own world?"

The woman looks shocked at the implication that she might not take in an alien child. "Of course! If he's got nowhere else to stay, we'll put him up in the guest room. Sadde, I want you to feel right at home, hear me?"

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Kent," he says with all the proper enunciation only a British person can do. "I do hope I will not be much of an inconvenience, I'll try not to get in your way and help you however I can."

"Now, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," she says benevolently. "I'm not putting any child who isn't mine to work, that's final."

"—I have magic powers," he mentions. "And some spells that are very useful for, er, cleaning and tidying up and fixing things and all. It wouldn't be an imposition."

Okay maybe Sadde is a little bit very excited to be allowed to use magic in this alternate world just like that.

"Oh, magic," she says. "Well, if God saw fit to bless you with powers, it'd be a shame not to let you use them, wouldn't it?"

He grins and elects not to comment on the whole God thing. "I have a spell that literally makes things clean, I could show you...?"

"Ooh! Now that's a miracle God doesn't often see fit to grant. Hmm, how about... does it do shoes? Jon's poor boots are caked with dirt, I've stopped bothering to clean them as long as he leaves them outside but if you can get them clean it'd be a weight off my mind, I feel like it looks slovenly."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does anything. Well, maybe not things that are very large but shoes it can do."

She leads him to the boots in question. They are in fact recognizable as boots, but only because a sufficient collection of dirt will eventually fall off on its own.

Should be easy enough. "Scourgify!"

They clean up as expected!

Martha claps her hands together. "Oh, how lovely. Don't worry, I won't set you to cleaning all day, but any time you see something looking dingy, feel free to wave your wand at it, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says, saluting.

"Alright. Do you have anything to move in- well, I suppose you wouldn't, if you appeared out of thin air like Xan says. Hmm... we might have to get you some clothes. You're not constitutionally opposed to them like our boy is, are you?"

"I'm not.—also, er," better get it out in the open sooner rather than later, "some days I'm a girl rather than a boy." She's okay with magic, right? "Magically, that is. It, er, has happened since I was a baby."

She frowns. "Well, that's... certainly unusual. God doesn't make mistakes, though, I'm sure it's all according to plan. Do you have a different name, or anything, when you're being a girl?"

"No. My name isn't very common, I think my mum made it up, so it's not, like, a boy's or a girl's name, it's just a... me name."

"That's fine, then. We'll buy you some dresses for when you're feeling feminine; can't have a girl your age running around in pants, after all."

Not in the sixties we can't, but, "I'd be okay with it, it's not a problem in the world where I'm from, and I wouldn't want you to spend money on me if you don't need to..."

"Nonsense," she says firmly. "We may be simple folk, but we've got standards. If we couldn't put you in proper clothes we'd have no business taking you in."

"Well, thank you, you're really very kind."