There was a paperweight on the coffee table. Ren stared at it intensely and put her hand in front of it, trying to push the magic out of her fingers. It would be easier with a wand or conduit of some kind, but Albus only had the Elder wand, which would not work for anyone but him. The paperweight, a small golden egg, started to lift off the ground and levitate on its own. Despite having seen her niece do this countless times, the old lady gasped in amazement. Albus was unimpressed and unsurprised by his lack of enthusiasm. This was all the muggles could do now, parlour tricks, making objects float or vanish for a second. The blood had become diluted over time when Albus closed all the muggle world gates. Occasionally, like today, he would meet some muggle whose ancestral blood contained a tinge of magic, but it would never be as strong as it had once been. Ren's face was contorting, and her wrist shook with the struggle to keep the golden egg in the air. Albus asked her to stop, and the egg hit the table with a thud. Ren held her wrist in pain and stared at Albus with a look he could not quite place. Was she proud of her ability, or did she feel like a freak, Albus wondered. The old lady interjected with the usual appeal.