Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling lives in a castle. Because Harry belongs to her. Joss Whedon... probably has a really nice house, because Eve and everything Buffyversal belongs to him. I live with two cats. I own nothing.
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"--Can't believe they actually let you kids fly around on those brooms,"
Eve was saying as they walked through the shop that specialized in flying devices. "As hung up on safety as people are these days, with airbags and seatbelts and all of that, and then they perch you on top of a stick and let you fly hundreds of feet in the air with nothing holding you on at all?"

Harry shrugged.

"The magical people don't seem to worry about that as much as the rest of the world," he admitted, gazing curiously at a brightly colored flying carpet that was drifting about up near the ceiling of the shop. "I suppose it's something to do with having magical healing; people get broken bones all the time playing quiddich, but it only takes a few minutes to have it put right."

Eve gave a very ladylike little huff, unimpressed by that take on things.

"I'm sure that's great, unless your neck is the bone that gets broken."

Harry started to answer, stopped dead in his tracks for several long seconds, then hurried over to the sales display he'd spotted. "Sky-High-Hikers" proclaimed the banner hanging over the shelves holding the shoes, and the footwear there ranged from sturdy boots to rakish-looking sports shoes. A burly man with a backpack over one shoulder was examining them also, and he nodded amiably at Harry as he looked around with wide eyes.

"They let you walk or run on air," the man told him. "If you're like me, and spend a lot of time in the mountains, it saves a lot of time when you can take shortcuts over the ravines, instead of having to climb down one side and up the other."

"That's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, thinking of all the high towers of Hogwarts, and how many windows let on to key locations. With a pair of sky-high-hikers he could get to his classes quicker and more easily (except for potions, of course, since the dungeon had no windows). Even better, if he were to be knocked off his broom during a quiddich game, it would be no problem at all to run back up to it, hop back on, and keep playing! Just imagining the look on the opposing team's faces made him grin. Then his face fell--he'd meant to go to Gringotts that morning to retrieve enough money to buy his school books and supplies, only the Floo mishap had prevented it. All he had with him were a few silver Sickles, not nearly enough cover the price displayed next to the pair Hikers he'd been eyeing.

Crushing disappointment filled him, though a moment later it occurred to him that he might be able to sneak back into Nocturne Alley at some later date and make his purchase. Resolving to remember the location of the shop (which was called 'Flynn's Flying Emporium') he made his way back to the entrance, where Eve was waiting for him.

"Sorry, sweetie," she told him as they walked along the street under the unending magical twilight. "I really do have to see a few people before we do any serious sightseeing."

Harry nodded quickly, anxious to reassure the woman that he understood.

"No, it's fine; thanks for letting me take a look in there. I'm--" He broke off with an embarrassed laugh, then carried on. "I'm sort of keen on flying, is all. Being able to fly my broom at Hogwarts is one of the best things I've ever done. And there are magical animals that fly, too... at least Hagrid says there are. Maybe one day I'll get to fly on one of those!" He was babbling in his excitement, and his embarrassment went up several notches, even though Eve didn't laugh, she only smiled, and nodded slowly.

"I don't doubt that you will, Harry. One day."

Now that they were back on the street, he was once again overwhelmed by the sheer variety of beings thronging the avenue. Witches and Wizards of the same sort as he was used to seeing in Diagon Alley were only a fraction of what he saw here.

There were stern-eyed men clad in armor of chain and plate, bearing swords at their sides and shields slung across their backs. Here and there, too, he saw tall, fierce-looking women kitted out in similar fashion. The two of them passed a small band of what looked like teenagers, all of whom dressed in somber colors and were smoking cigarettes. Harry thought them high-school seniors enjoying the last of their summer holiday, until he chanced to meet the gaze of one as they passed. The weight of immense age lay heavy in that steady stare, and the girl who walked with his arm around her waist gave the startled boy a lazy smile that showed delicate, needle-sharp fangs.

Harry cringed back so quickly that he bumped into Eve, nearly knocking her from her feet. She recovered her footing (with surprising ease, he noted absently, despite her ultra-fashionable high-heels, and the cobblestones that should have made walking in them utterly impossible), and gave him a mock scowl.

"Hey, take it easy."

He was staring after the group of ancient teens, eyes wide.

"Th-those were--"

She followed his pointing finger, gave a small but genuine frown, and pushed his hand back down to his side.

"Vampires. Yep, they sure are." With a reassuring pat on his shoulder she urged him on. "They're generally well behaved when they're here, so don't panic. On the other hand, whenever you see them hanging around, it's probably a good idea not to wander into any dark alleys...." She did a deliberate double-take, smiled down at him, and added: "Actually, come to think of it, it's never a good idea to wander into a dark alley."

"Too late," Harry grumbled, still feeling a prickle along his neck that might have been caused by a hungry vampire's stare. Unexpectedly, Eve burst into laughter at his words, her nose crinkling slightly as she did so. For just that instant it marred the eerie, somehow unsettling beauty of that face, but at the same time it made her look much more human, too. He smiled back at her, finding that he much preferred the humanity over the perfect, painted mask that was her usual face.

Another few steps brought them to a building that featured a set of wide, high double doors. Harry gasped as one of the armored women he'd seen earlier led her steed out through those doors and into the street. It was a unicorn... or nearly so. At least a foot taller than any horse he'd ever seen, it was powerfully built, and yet unnaturally nimble and graceful. It's hide, mane and long, glossy tail were all colored a silvery violet, with a sheen like that of moonlight rippling across it with every movement. Its hooves gleamed like dark gemstones, and it's eyes were large, forward-facing, and a tawny gold, with vertically-slip pupils like those of a cat. It had three horns, two short ones set high in its forehead, and a longer one in the center. The woman warrior swung herself up astride the beast without benefit of bridle or saddle, and with a liquid-sounding hiss it wheeled and trotted off down the street.

Eve was watching him, amusement quite apparent, so he forced his slack jaw closed and concentrated on not acting like an awestruck farmer on his first trip to the city.

"I don't have one of those," she told him, "But I do have something stabled here that I need to get. Part of how I make my living is by bringing things in and out of places like this."

Harry, peering curiously into the interior of the stable, turned his head to give her a look.

"'Things'?"

Interestingly, it was Eve's turn to look just the tiniest bit uneasy, though the discomfort he saw was so fleeting that he might well have imagined it.

"Nothing too valuable, or bizarre," she told him with elaborate casualness, examining the polish on her perfect nails as if it were infinitely more interesting than the topic under discussion. "Just things that are easy to get in one place, and hard to get in another. Little things." With a graceful little wave she indicated that he should follow her inside. "I also deliver messages, sometimes, if someone doesn't trust the usual channels."

Harry considered that. Eve, with her perfect hair, flawless makeup, snug, summery blouse and short skirt, didn't exactly fit his mental image of a postman, or especially someone who delivered freight to remote, hard-to-reach locations. On the other hand, with magic many things were possible, so he wasn't prepared to discount what she'd told him out of hand. As he entered the building he took a last look behind him, still not entirely comfortable with the idea that there were genuine living (err, 'unliving') vampires out there. He didn't see anyone sporting obvious fangs amongst the passersby, though he did see a single tall man standing across the way, who was staring directly at him with unnerving intensity. His clothing was hard to see, especially since Harry was still without his glasses, but it seemed to be some sort of lightweight, modern-looking armor, all in greys and blacks. When the man saw Harry looking back at him he turned away and vanished through a doorway. The boy wondered, fleetingly, what that might have been about, before he was distracted by the arrival of the stable manager. He walked in to join Eve as she spoke with him.

"Was he any trouble?", she asked, even as she produced a small pouch from somewhere and began counting out several gold galleons into the man's palm.

"No, no, no trouble at all," he assured her, with only a brief glance over at Harry. He seemed much more interested in the beautiful young woman, not that she was showing any interest in return. With a sigh, he counted through the money she'd given him and led the way to one side of the large room. "Your creature stayed still as a statue, the whole time, just as you promised. A good thing, too, since I'm responsible for these other animals while they're in my care."

The stalls to either side held various riding beasts; mostly horses, though one of those was an exotically-colored beast striped in orange and black, like a tiger. The enclosure the man opened up for Eve, though, held something far different. Harry had thought that he was getting his balance, that his composure wouldn't be so easily shaken after what he'd already seen. Even so, he couldn't help but leap backwards with a gasp when the open stall was shown to contain a gigantic spider, with a body fully as large as... as....

He didn't know what it was as big as; he was too busy trying to hold perfectly still so that it wouldn't decide to eat him. The stable manager let out a loud guffaw, and even Eve snickered softly, though she tried to cover it with a soft hand held before her mouth.

"It's not bloody funny!" he told them, his voice shaking with both fear and anger. "That's a gi-normous spider sitting there!"

Since the spider wasn't making any move to try to eat him, or any move at all, for that matter, he had time to decide what it was as big as.

"It's as big as Hagrid!" he said, and immediately felt a bit better, as if the very act of defining that aspect of the creature had helped him deal with its proximity. And truthfully, its body was nearly as large as the Hogwart's gamekeeper. It was in every way a spider; multiple gleaming eyes, bulbous, hideous body, and eight long, jointed legs that likely covered a space fifteen feet across when they were fully unfolded. Oddly, however, it wasn't at all furry, or fuzzy, as he'd imagined a largish spider would be. Also, it... gleamed? The body, and the legs, seemed to be made of softly shining plates, all fitted together so smoothly that there was hardly a seam visible... and yet there the seams were, if he squinted just right. The eyes, large and staring, were crystalline, some green and a few orange, and their glassy stare didn't really seem like that of a living creature at all.

In fact, the longer he looked, the more he became convinced that it was a statue, perhaps put there as some sort of cruel joke. He gathered his anger and indignation, and gathered himself to say as much to the manager (he was extremely reluctant to speak harshly to Eve; twelve years old or no, he was still a male, and she was an extremely attractive woman. Speaking harshly to someone like her wasn't done lightly). Before he could speak, however, she reached out, stroke the spider's head with the tip of one finger, and it suddenly lurched upright.

Even the stable manager moved with haste to clear out of the way as the thing exited the stall, so Harry didn't feel embarrassed at his own quick scramble to the side. He watched it move, and the precise, slightly jerky movements instantly told him that he'd been (mostly) correct. It wasn't a living creature; it was some manner of magically-animated construct. A clockwork device, fabulously crafted, yet still only a machine. When it came to halt in the center of the room, Eve stepped over and leaned against it in a calculated pose, smiling at him all the while.

"Harry, this is my all-purpose beast of burden. An old acquaintance custom built him for me." She patted the construct fondly on its flank, and the rings on her fingers made a faint metallic chiming sound at the contact. "It wasn't easy to gather up all the parts, especially the power source... but it was worth it in the end." Eve didn't really seem to be speaking to Harry anymore; her soft, musical voice had gone quiet, and cold. "He'll serve me for centuries, maybe even millennia, completely faithful, fetching and carrying and helpless to do anything except obey. And never making any sort of sound, either; never able to speak... and especially never able to sing." She was stroking the spider's metal plating with gentle, almost loving fingers, and when she looked up at Harry again there was both pain, and a quiet, savage satisfaction in that lovely face.

"I call him Lorne."

Harry blinked, unsure of what any of that was supposed to mean. One thing did bother him, though. When he looked into the construct's glassy eyes, they met his for a long moment, then dimmed slightly, and dipped to stare at the floor. A faint chill went through him then, though he quickly managed to shake it off. It was only a robot, a magical creation, after all, much like his own broomstick. That look, as if the thing had been feeling sadness, was all in his imagination.

Obviously there couldn't be any more to it than that.

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