I'm still working out how to upload/edit stuff on fanfic, so apologies for the chapters being mixed up and repeated before. Hope this one works properly!

CHAPTER 3

Magnus arrived in Hogsmeade with a pop, having arrived by Portal. He was much more used to travelling through Portals that he was when he was younger, having been alive for around 8 centuries, and landed promptly on his feet. He cast a quick, furtive glance at his surroundings, tightened the belt on his metallic violet leather trench-coat and hurried up the main road to Hogwarts. The castle loomed up high in the distance, under a pale wisp of clouds, which looked like cotton balls pulled apart. A smattering of stars winked down on him, as if letting him in on a particularly funny in-joke. Magnus' thoughts briefly strayed to Alec, and how he was going to cope with his absence, if only for a week. He smiled to himself at how much Alec relied on him for love and support, because Maryse certainly wasn't going to give him motherly love any time soon, and Alec's responsibility for taking care and controlling (as best as he could, especially when Jace was around) his siblings and friends could drain him. This made Magnus feel especially proud and happy to know that Alec was genuinely in love with him, and that he legitimately needed him.

Finally, the tall, intimidating gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed up ahead of him, and Magnus lifted up one elegantly gloved hand to the gates. Instantly, blue sparks danced about his hand and he touched the tips of his fingers gently against the metal. He straightened up and after a few moments he noticed a stooped figure, wheezing as he carried a lantern to the gates, at which Magnus stood pleasantly waiting for them to open.

"Why, good evening, Mr Filch."

Typically, the crusty old Filch replied with a grumbling mumble.

"Bloody late for you to be requesting to see the Headmaster. He'll be sleeping like a log, that's what. And Mrs Norris better not see those… those sparkly fingers of yours. She'll rip 'em to shreds, that's what."

Magnus just nodded politely and the gates swung open before him. Magnus strode purposefully up the drive, and in the distance he could see smoke billowing up from Hagrid's cabin. I must remember to pay him a visit, Magnus thought.

Hobbling frantically behind him, Filch gasped, "The Headmaster will be in his office, but just go in quietly, because he may be asleep."

Magnus smiled politely, knowing that Dumbledore would never keep him waiting. Magnus doffed his expensive hand-made Italian hat to Filch, and then casually, yet elegantly – of course – he made his way up to Dumbledore's office.

"Lemon sherbet," stated Magnus to the gargoyles, as if having a conversation about the weather. The door slid open, and the familiar winding staircase appeared. Magnus stepped on, and on the ride up, straightened his tie and made sure none of his facial glitter had smudged. As the stairs stopped moving, he knocked softly on Dumbledore's office door, subconsciously keeping in mind what Filch had said to him. You never knew; someone as old as Dumbledore was entitled to naps whenever he pleased.

"Come in, Magnus, my good friend." Dumbledore's familiar low rumble made him smile. Magnus opened the door and took off his hat. He closed the door softly behind him and turned to the face he knew so well.

"Well, Albus, long time no see."

-oOo-

Clary had absolutely no idea where they were or what had happened to them, except that they were in a little quirky town, and it was freezing cold. It wasn't just a chill that made you shiver occasionally, but an iciness so thick that it creeped through threads of fabric, the cells of your skin, and penetrated through your body. Clary's face and fingers were already numb, and a fierce, unkind wind whipped her hair around her face, making it very difficult to see indeed. Noticing her numbing discomfort, Jace put an arm around her, but for once, his body heat (if he had any left) simply refused to warm her. Jace was blowing warm air onto Clary's head while she whimpered with cold. Alec's knees were banging together, while Isabelle's teeth were chattering. Together, they made an orchestra of freezing bodily noises. In any other situation, it would have been funny.

"Where the friggin' hell are we?" Clary asked.

"Does it m…matter?" Isabelle was looking eerily ghostly, her already pale skin white in the cold.

"Never mind that. Can we please get the hell out of the cold?" Jace was growing colder and more impatient by the second, and any minute he was going to become extremely unpleasant.

"Um, I…I think th…that's a pub or s…s…something over there," Isabelle pointed. The four of them trudged off to what everyone hoped was indeed a pub, and was warm. An open fire would be nice, too. Alec pushed the door open, and Clary, Jace and Isabelle crowded around him.

They were definitely in a pub, but of the regular crowd you might see in any other bar, there were very few here. There were a group of small, pesky goblins crowded around a small, round table playing poker with cards that kept setting themselves alight. A pale, shabby-looking vampire was deep in conversation with a woman with hair that seemed to wave, as if it was seaweed in a current. People of all shapes, sizes and loudness were here, but it was incomparable to Taki's back in New York. The Three Broomsticks, which they discovered, was the height of well-managed chaos.

They made their way up to the bar where an attractive, curvy woman was pouring what looked like whisky but was smoking slightly, into a shot glass, and passed it over the bar to a man with a face so grey and cheekbones so hollow, it looked like his face had been carved out of stone with a hammer and chisel. Clearing his throat very theatrically, and putting on his best we-are-in-serious-need-of-help-right-now face, he caught the barmaid's eye. She looked at him, his golden hair and radiant smile, and she wandered over with a hungry expression on her face. Clary reached up to peck Jace lightly on the cheek - which sent a strong fiery, burning sensation through her face as a result of Jace's mysterious outcome of the battle with the Dark Shadowhunters - as if just to make in crystal clear that Jace belonged to her.

"Can I help you at all?" The woman had a lilting English accent, which Isabelle found quite lovely.

"Erm, yes. We are all from overseas, as you might have guessed from our charming accents, and we were wondering where we were exactly." As usual, Jace took immediate control of the situation.

"Well, you're in Hogsmeade, of course!" With a tinkering laugh, she continued. "I'm Madam Rosemerta, and I run The Three Broomsticks here. Can I get you any drinks?"

Smiling his brilliant smile, Jace replied. "Sure! Why not? What have you got on offer?"

"Butterbeers, firewhisky, the usual," she replied.

Looking back at Isabelle, Clary and Alec before replying, Jace asked, "Erm, okay then, 4 butterbeers please."

"Jace," hissed Clary. "Beers? Seriously? Mum will kill me if she finds out I've been drinking!"

"Oh, don't worry, honey," Madam Rosemerta reassured her, "these are alcohol free, but are guaranteed to make you smile!"

She pulled out 4 tall glass bottles full of golden liquid that looked so good, it made Clary forget all about her mother. As she cracked them open, she said, "Right, that'll be 3 sickled, 2 knuts."

Jace hesitated. "Sorry?"

"Our currency here is in galleons, sickles and knuts, but being from overseas, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about! So, tell me. What money do you use?"

Alec pulled out a twenty dollar note. "We've got American dollars." He put it in the bar. "Keep the change."

Jace smoothly collected the bottles without spilling anything, and the four of them turned away and walked over to a free booth, leaving Madame Rosemerta speechless, with the money clutched in her hand.