Muggle At Large

by badholt

After a freak accident, a disgruntled muggle scientist stumbles into the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Now MACUSA can forget about Obliviating her - once she's discovered magic, she refuses to let it go. Technology meets magic in a dangerous adventure through the Magical Americas that will reinvent what it means to be a "magical" - that is, if she doesn't get caught first...

4. Of Ire & Ironbellies

||_Author's Foreword_||

TRIGGER WARNINGS: language, violence

(1) Perhaps I should've called this chapter "Of Talking & Talking," because it was a monster… and, yes, there's a ton of dialogue. O_O

(2) Here's a friendly nod to JayBat for the Luna Lovegood suggestion.

(3) I'm carefully practicing the "imperfect narrator," so you can't always believe what you read…

---

~ Four ~
Of Ire & Ironbellies

---

Alexandra Austin had been hit by a car, thrown into a world of magic, slapped in the face by a contemptuously-swung door, and just that morning witnessed a ghastly explosion. Thus, it was quite the testament to the depths of her shock and disbelief when the revelation that she'd been toying with Auror Roman all along hit her like a barreling freight train.

Hey, we're in slow-mo, her subconscious exclaimed as her stomach plunged, time slowed, and Lex's mind broadcast the "Emergency Lockdown" voice from earlier, now calmly repeating on loop nothing but Oh shit.

An unremarkable black inkpen hurtled into the air, revolving at a frame rate so slow it would have infuriated even the most casual video gamer. At the moment, however, it might as well have been the most fascinating pen in all of existence, for Lex was more than willing to accept some choppy lag in her visual stream. It was better to watch that pen than to watch the ensuing conversation between two Aurors and accidently reveal her growing dread. Yes, the fascinating shiny pen caught the sunlight as it spun in the air, and Lex fixated on its spinning form like her life depended on it. She watched the pen battle and lose against gravity repeatedly as Seth or, more fittingly, Auror Roman continuously tossed it between the air and his palm.

"I wasn't aware you were on duty today, Roman," the blonde Auror Wilkinson stated plainly in her gravelly voice.

Seth glanced briefly at Wilkinson, before returning his fierce gaze to Lex. He seemed quite amused by Lex's sudden interest in his inkpen, though Wilkinson looked anything but amused at the moment. While doing her research, Lex had seen a few references to a magical creature known as a Dementor, which sucked the joy and happiness out of everything around it. Sitting so close to Wilkinson, Lex couldn't help but wonder if that creature was purely metaphorical…

Seth replied smoothly-as-ever to the stern Auror, "I'm always on duty, Wilkinson."

Of course, Dementor Wilkinson was not amused. If any Auror was "always on duty," it would surely be her. In fact, Lex couldn't imagine Wilkinson ever looking "off duty." Maybe off-duty Wilkinson would simply slouch more or, perhaps, loosen her tie? Currently, Wilkinson stood rigid as a board and stared impassively at the top of Seth's head. She crossed her arms and slowly tapped a heavy black boot against the pavement, while patiently awaiting a serious response from her colleague.

Seth sighed, before answering casually, "Potter gave me time off earlier this week, so I took over Graves' shifts for the weekend. Merlin knows, that man could use a vacation… Anyways, I was just about to have a chat with Alexandra, here," he said, casting Lex a meaningful gaze, "about her morning."

Lex watched from the periphery of her vision as Auror Wilkinson merely grunted, gave a curt nod, and turned her attention to Lex. Lex felt her heart skip a beat and nearly bust free of its ribcage. Her hands were gripping the edge of the patio table tightly, pinning the flimsy paper of The New York Ghost to the tabletop. Though it required an insane amount of effort, Lex managed to loosen her grip and relax her posture.

Seriously, she thought, I need to stop acting like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar…

Wilkinson's steely glare appraised Lex, eyes darting from the newspaper to her clothes to her downturned face, before turning back to Seth with distaste and, perhaps, a bit of suspicion.

Of course, Lex imagined that suspicion and distrust were near-constant states for this rather severe-looking Auror, so she tried not to take it too personally. Lex wasn't sure what the woman assumed was happening here, but she was more than happy to stay out of the limelight.

"I'd ask why you didn't check in per procedure, Roman, but we both know it'd be wasted breath," spoke Wilkinson in a hush, "Run your team however you like, but next time you take a holiday and land yourself in mine, you're going to follow my rules. This is my team, and we do things by-the-book here. Understand?"

"Of course, Wilkinson," Seth replied, finally ceasing to toss the pen and placing it gingerly on the table, "I apologize. I had no intention of stepping on your toes."

Apparently, Wilkinson decided the situation was adequately resolved with this brief exchange. She clasped her hands behind her back, straightened her already incredibly-rigid posture, and raised her chin, so that she might better stare down authoritatively at Seth and Lex. Facing the center of the table, she addressed Seth but ensured that Lex was likewise informed.

"We're questioning everyone present. Full eyewitness accounts. Permit checks. Lucky for you," she said, glancing around the courtyard, "it appears we are competently staffed, and the rest of the square is covered. Do you have everything handled here?" she asked pointedly, inclining her head in Lex's direction.

"Yes. Everything is under control," Seth replied with a firm nod.

"Alright," she said, turning to Lex to add politely, "Thank you for your patience and your cooperation, Miss…"

"Austin," Lex answered hastily.

Doh, she thought immediately.

Lex could already feel the phantom sensation of a slap. Her palm desperately wanted to slap itself against her forehead.

Across the table, Seth raised an inquisitive eyebrow, while Lex mentally chided herself once more. Now the Aurors knew her first and last name. Any chance of assuming a fake family name or otherwise hiding her identity from them had just disappeared. Well, unless she could get really creative with a cover story…

"Miss Austin," Wilkinson repeated with an air of finality.

The woman turned stiffly and began a brisk walk away from this corner of the courtyard. Seth smiled knowingly at Lex, rolling his eyes at Wilkinson's retreating form. Lex couldn't help but marvel at how he somehow managed to appear incredibly suave, while acting so incredibly childish.

Approximately three paces from the table, Wilkinson paused briefly to call over her shoulder, "Oh, and when you're done, Roman, consider that your end-of-day. You can pick up the team's paperwork later."

"Thank you, Wilkinson," Seth playfully groaned as she resumed her exit once more.

And just like that, Lex was once again alone with this odd Auror, Seth Roman. His scalding gaze still hadn't faltered from hers, and something inside of Lex shivered in warning.

"I should apologize for the blatant unprofessionalism exhibited today, Alexandra," Seth began apologetically, the tone not quite translating to his facial expression, "Personally, I find that interrogations go much more smoothly, when the subject doesn't know they are being interrogated. So much more is revealed by a person's true nature, you see."

Lex would've protested his deception, citing her rights as a citizen, but she had no idea what those rights even were. She had no idea if a MACUSA version of the Miranda Rights, or any other equivalent police code, even existed. Not to mention, it'd be a bad idea to draw attention to her non-existent MACUSA citizenship…

Still, her wounded pride begged to protest his toying with her emotions. He should have told her his true intentions immediately rather than lead her on… but wasn't that kind of the point of catching her off guard? Yes, Lex couldn't really fault the law enforcement officer for doing his job - even if he was childish and highly unorthodox. She took comfort in the knowledge that at least he hadn't heard anything too suspicious. Ultimately, she settled on voicing the only objection she felt she could safely make - playing the "you're-an-unprofessional-tease-you-shameless-flirt" card.

"So, all of that harassment was just to get a statement from me? Unprofessionalism doesn't even begin to - "

"You're welcome to file a complaint with our Public Relations Quality Assurance subdivision, PRQA, if you feel that you've been mistreated," he interrupted brusquely, ignoring Lex's subsequent scoff, "It does get a bit backlogged at times, however, so I'd advise you to Floo to MACUSA HQ as soon as the lockdown is lifted - that is, if you wish to get home before dark. All of that waiting, and paperwork can be quite… tedious."

Lex glared at the obnoxious Auror. Even if she hadn't been a non-magical imposter in his magical land, the choice he so-eloquently offered wasn't much of a choice at all. Judging by the elevation of the sun, it was already well past noon, and he definitely knew how badly she wanted to get home. Even under normal circumstances, enduring the mindless agonies of bureaucracy was unbearable enough, but to endure it after the emotional trauma she'd been through… no. No way in Hell, Heaven, or any other partisan religious Afterlife!

"Gee, thanks for the advice, Auror Roman," Lex snapped sarcastically, struggling to keep her growing irritation at bay, "It's so encouraging to know that MACUSA has a backlog of this sort of thing. You must be such a proud contributor."

Good grief, why was it so difficult to remain civil when talking to this man? She swore that he actually enjoyed arguing with her. He certainly made no effort to hide his amusement as he chuckled openly at her frustration. The Voice of Reason in her head insisted she stop provoking him, but Seth's self-satisfied smirk irked her to the nth degree.

"Do you always nag suspects for dates, Seth?" she challenged, pressing him for a response other than laughter.

"Who said you were a suspect?" Seth shot back immediately, inclining a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow.

"What? No! You know that's not what I meant," she gasped, her mind once again broadcasting that emergency Oh shit siren on repeat, "I'm not an Auror - you can't expect me to know your terminology. What - what would you call me?"

"I should think witness or innocent bystander might have been more appropriate," Seth answered smoothly, the corners of his lips twitching to hide a small smile.

Of course, he's right as usual! I keep slipping up… I need rest… These are not prime working conditions for subterfuge… she mentally lamented, before deciding to employ her trusty fallback plan, When in doubt, Lex, play dumb.

"Well, great! There you go," Lex sighed and gave a small self-deprecating laugh, "Clearly, my vocabulary is not up to par with yours. So, it should be no small wonder that I can't finish a basic crossword puzzle."

"Well, there is more to a crossword puzzle than vocabulary," he replied with his customary smirk.

Really, it was quickly becoming more productive to note when Seth wasn't smirking. It was such a near-constant that Lex idly wondered whether or not his face possessed a limited range of emotional expression. Of course, a darker vindictive side of Lex simultaneously seethed, wondering what cruel miracle it would take to wipe that smug expression from his face.

"True, Seth, but you still haven't answered my question. Do you always nag bystanders for dates?" she prodded, refusing to let this wrong go unpunished.

"Only when they're attractive."

Lex was speechless. Seth's grin grew impossibly more smug.

Okay, now he really wasn't playing fair! Lex usually appreciated candid conversation, but currently she was not adequately prepared to carry on with both an interrogation and a game of courtship and flirtation. Her frustration had officially reached its boiling point. In fact, it had reached its point of melting, boiling, vaporization, sublimation, and… yes, effectively the conditions of every existent phase state were now met. Never mind the principles of physics - physics be damned!

"Okay. That is it. Enough of these mind games! What's it going to take for you to leave me alone, huh?" she snapped, waving her arms shamelessly in the air, "What act of God is necessary for this day to fucking end, so I can finally go home and relax in peace? Name your price!"

Seth's fine facial features adopted an expression of intense curiosity after Lex's casual mention of God. Or, perhaps, it was merely the awkward juxtaposition of referencing a god and invoking a vulgar term for sinful pleasure within the same sentence…

Did wizards and witches practice religion? She couldn't remember any religious references within the texts she'd read... Well, none other than a few smitten analyses written by magical philosophers on "curious no-maj religious customs."

"Well, I can't speak for no-maj deities, Alexandra - then again, I suppose no one can… " he trailed off thoughtfully, entirely unfazed by her emotional outburst, "I tell you what, Alexandra, my offer still stands. We can stay here, and do this 'by-the-book,' as Wilkinson is so fond of doing, or you can answer a few generic questions for me over a pint, and we can raise our glasses to the end of a shitty day. Paperwork or pints? Your choice."

Lex was developing a sneaking suspicion that Seth Roman was not the type of man to truly offer choices or leave anything up to chance. Auror Wilkinson was gruff and strict, but at least a person knew where they stood with her. Perhaps there was a comforting transparency to doing things "by the book."

Auror Roman could claim something was "off the record," but his true intentions were about as clear as his duty schedule… Was he always on duty? In spite of his cavalier and somewhat childish attitude, Wilkinson had spoken to him with a deference that suggested they held similar rank. Surely there was adequate reason for such a rank, reason enough for Seth to be put in charge of an entire team. The fact that she couldn't identify this reason made it all the more concerning.

Ugh, yes, the more Lex considered his possible motives and personality quirks, the more slippery her entire analysis of his behavior seemed. Who was this guy, this enigma? With his character so uncertain, Seth Roman spelled danger. Limited exposure spelled safety.

"So, if I go on this date with you, you'll leave me alone?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, but I get one hour."

Good enough, she thought while imagining a grim digital timer labeled "Seconds Until Salvation," Can we get one hour on the clock, please? Thanks…

"Okay, deal. One drink, one hour," she agreed, employing her own pale imitation of Seth's considerable confidence.

Her reward for closing the deal was another beaming smile that crinkled Seth's eyes attractively at the edges. He leaned lazily back in his chair, eyes roaming the courtyard, eventually landing on Lex's alcove by the exit.

"Have you eaten anything today, Alexandra?" he inquired thoughtfully.

Yeah, about an hour ago I ate an entire wad of shredded paper, which I ripped from a suspicious map that, if found, would have made me an instant suspect, Lex thought.

"No, nothing yet," Lex said.

Meanwhile, she was quite suddenly aware of a loud rushing as temporarily-magical blood streamed through her veins. Each thunderous pulse of her heart echoed from her earlobes to her fingertips. Oh, no, oh, no… had he seen her gorging herself on that shredded map? She had plenty to worry about, of course, but the first shameful thought to pop into mind was How embarrassing.

But, no, she'd checked for spectators! She had even performed a cursory check for hidden security cameras, though the wizarding world didn't seem to have much by way of surveillance technology.

While it was quite possible that something magical had escaped her notice, she felt she'd done the best she could given the circumstances. All verifiable evidence pointed to her culinary secret remaining safe… Logically, if he'd seen her eat the map, why hadn't he told Wilkinson or the other Aurors? Better yet, why hadn't Wilkinson seen it herself? Unless… oh no, was that why Wilkinson looked at her in distaste?

Lex's unsettling train of thought quickly devolved into a frantic paranoid hysteria that was eerily-reminiscent of numerous awkward moments throughout her high school years. Thus, she almost jumped straight out of her chair when Seth resumed their conversation.

"Okay then, perhaps, lunch as well?" he asked pleasantly, tilting his head to the side.

Lex nodded vigorously. She didn't trust herself to speak aloud while her stomach was performing nauseating somersaults like some aspiring gymnast. Ugh, she was about ready to vomit from the day's stress. Regurgitating the map might save her the humiliation of some stomach-pumping spell, but Seth would surely have horrifying commentary prepared for that particular scenario…

"Do you have any… strange dietary restrictions or habits I should know about?" Seth continued, apparently oblivious to her inner turmoil.

Yeah, uh, I'm a stationerian, meaning I only eat processed foods from trees that have been killed or, more specifically, paper. I've developed a slight allergy to cardboard, but I'm quite partial to tissue… she thought hysterically, the silent joke doomed to pass in and out of existence entirely unappreciated.

"No… Why would you ask that?" Lex asked slowly, before hiding her discomfort behind some obvious humor, "What, Seth, are you going to surprise me and reveal that you're not just an Auror, but now you moonlight as a chef on occasion too?"

"Of course not! I would never dream of surprising you so… clumsily," he chuckled, a dark gleam in his hazel eyes, "Still, it is valuable information should I ever need to order a meal for you in the future, or… cook for you at my place."

Holy cow-hide-beanbags, ya'll! Lex thought in disbelief, Can you believe this guy? The sheer audacity! In what crazy, fictional universe does he think I'd actually go for this…

His arms lay crossed over his chest, accentuating toned arm muscles, and his chair rocked back and forth as one long leg flexed against the crook of the table stand. Although she would have loved to watch him fall to the floor, the table didn't budge in the slightest and the chair wouldn't wobble even with the back at a 45 degree angle to the floor. Lex suspected spellwork.

"Wow. Don't push your luck, man," she laughed, efficiently addressing both his ungentlemanlike assumptions and his hazardous seating position in the same breath.

All four chair legs swiftly returned to their proper position on the ground. Seth stood and pushed his chair beneath the table, all in one graceful sweeping motion. Nothing seemed to phase him.

"Well, it was worth a try! I'm sure I'll figure you out eventually, Alexandra," he said, patiently waiting for Lex to stand, so that he might push in her chair, "As I said before, I think you'll find I don't relent quite so easily."

---

It was 3:30 PM on October 23rd, when Wyomi Wolfe furiously scrubbed at a spotless wooden countertop for the fourth time that afternoon. Last time, she lasted a full six minutes of waiting for more news on the lockdown before promptly returning to rub the wrinkly skin of her hands raw and red. See, more than anything, Wyomi Wolfe did not want to think. She did not want to think, for surely if she did, Wyomi Wolfe would never stop crying.

Of all the days for an attack… she thought meekly, Why did it have to be today? Why his day? Oh, Chayton…

She quickly swatted the flittering thought from her mind and dropped the sopping-wet dishrag, as one of her regulars, Trocar, was beckoning for a refill. Most bartenders would cast a quick Scourgify rather than engage in menial labor. Wyomi, however, found that a few simple tasks accomplished in a no-maj fashion helped to soothe her much-too-delicate nerves.

"Quit torturing yourself, Wyomi, dear," Trocar drawled in that posh, British accent of his, "Let the Aurors earn their keep, whilst you plop your arse down in that fancy chair over there and read that lunatic rag of yours."

Wyomi shot him a meaningful glare as she poured his second Bloody Mary, O-positive flavor, from a self-refilling copper pitcher. The pasty vampire folded his copy of The New York Ghost across his lap and stared back at her with dark heavy-lidded eyes.

"Don't get cheeky! You forget - I can hear your heartbeat racing like a bloody gazelle from halfway across the bar," he scoffed while sipping delicately on his blood-flavored cocktail, "Trust Trocar, dear - at this point, the best thing you can do is look after your own health and relax."

Wyomi sighed softly, returning the pitcher of Bloody Mary to its place behind the bar. Every year she spent this day working, but she had to admit that Trocar had a point. Her annual ritual needed to be honored.

So, pulling out her tall cushioned chair from beneath the bar, Wyomi retrieved the day's edition of The Quibbler from her pantsuit pocket. And, without further ado, she began reading as best she could through her tearfilled eyes.

At 3:33 PM, Wyomi's seat cushion buzzed insistently, while her chair wobbled eagerly back and forth on its knobbly legs. Wyomi's fancy chair always reliably indicated when new customers entered The Bloody Banshee. It had even caught a few Disillusioned youths a couple of times as they tried to sneak past the underage wards and snatch some alcohol from behind the bar.

Quickly rising from her seat, Wyomi greeted a handsome young Auror and his equally-handsome female companion. The young couple selected two seats in the middle of the bar, and the young man rapped twice on his wooden stool, summoning a chair back from the seat, the wood sculpting itself to perfectly fit his spine. Curiously, the young woman appeared surprised by his maneuver.

You'd think she'd never been to a bar before… Hmm… I really should get someone to check on those underage wards again, Wyomi mused, approaching the young couple for their drink order.

She desperately wanted to ask the Auror for a status update on this ongoing Scourer situation. Wyomi just knew it was the Scourers - it was always the Scourers. However, the pair appeared to be involved in a rather intense conversation of a more official sort. The man jotted down notes on a roll of parchment, while the woman spoke softly and hesitantly, fidgeting in her seat.

Wyomi decided to wait for a better opening to interrupt. She knew better than to interfere with Auror business - especially on a day like this.

As she poured the man his glass of butterbeer and the woman her glass of pumpkin juice, however, she couldn't seem to shake the feeling that there was something incredibly familiar about the young lady. Wyomi was certain she had never seen the man in The Bloody Banshee before, however, because she would have remembered an Auror with an attractive face like his…

Wyomi listened carefully as the young woman spoke. She wasn't as spry in her middle-age, but she still had a sensitive ear.

"...estimating distances, but I was pretty much right in front of the bank," the woman explained calmly.

It wasn't as raspy as before, but there was something about her voice, an aching quality that lingered painfully beneath. Perhaps it was simply the blunt delivery of each word, the intonation that seemed to bear her very soul with each sentence. Whatever the intangible reason, recognition gusted through Wyomi, like the crackling winds of a summer storm.

"Lex? Oh, my word, is that really you?" Wyomi asked abruptly.

The witch and wizard's attentions snapped quickly to Wyomi, and a beautiful smile spread instantly across Lex's much-improved face. Truly, the girl's recovery was nothing short of extraordinary…

"Hi, Wyomi! Yes, it's really me. I would have said something earlier, but I didn't think you'd recognize me," she answered, her eyes bright.

Many people would have been confused by the myriad emotions dancing behind Lex's eyes in that moment. Wyomi, however, had spent her entire childhood gazing into eyes like those, eyes thirsting for relief and longing for comfort. Wyomi and Chayton had both housed their own set of thirsty eyes within a resilient young skull. She now knew that look anywhere. What a day to encounter Lex again… Eyes like those on this very special date could be nothing short of fate.

Suspecting some curious celestial forces were responsible, Wyomi vowed to consult her Fortune Sticks on the matter that very night. She had never been particularly studious, a relative novice in most branches of magic. However, Wyomi had always been quite taken with Divination, specifically astrology and xylomancy.

As a rebellious teen, she had excelled at finding trouble in the woods and amongst individuals that society had deemed "unsavory." Twigs and starry skies were always easily accessible when romping through the forest, and thus, she'd picked up a thing or two from her "beastly" friends concerning the fortune-telling disciplines.

"Of course, I recognized you, sweetie," Wyomi purred, "I'm so happy to see you made it to a healer at last, but," she paused, frowning slightly as she remembered the day's events, "I'm so sorry you have to go through this all over again. It hardly seems fair."

Lex was initially puzzled, but understanding soon dawned upon her as she whispered a soft Oh.

The male Auror merely looked intrigued. His eyes narrowed slightly and his lips drew into a lopsided smirk as he, no doubt, read some hidden meaning from the conversation, one that neither Wyomi nor Lex could see.

"Thank you, Wyomi," she said, warm sincerity shining through her voice, "Frankly, I'm sorry that anyone has to go through this…"

As Lex trailed off, the young Auror turned and teased in a mock whisper, "Lex, huh? Say, when do you and I get to be on a nickname basis?"

"Hmm… Let me see… what time is it?" Lex asked dryly.

Chuckling, the man reached into the pocket of his cloak and retrieved a rather ancient-looking pocket watch.

"It is 15:45, or 3:45PM, if you prefer."

"Then, from 15:45 to 16:45, Sethykins," she retorted casually, lifting her tankard and taking a long sip of its juice.

The Auror released several deep bellows of laughter, while Lex released only a single exasperated sigh. Palpable tension hung in the air, threatening to ignite with each glance and verbal exchange the young couple shared. Wyomi wasn't certain, however, if that lingering tension would ignite into romantic sparks or into angry flame…

While the man's flirtations were so obvious they practically demanded an obligatory eyeroll, Lex's voice was strained and the fierce glint in the man's eyes hinted at a subtle power-play of a more insidious nature.

Despite her numerous frailties and insecurities, Wyomi proudly considered herself to be a protective mother Wolfe. Should the need ever arise, she resolved to defend this young wolf pup, this battered and bruised Scourer victim, who had twice sought refuge in her bar.

"Wyomi, how are you holding up?" Lex asked suddenly, probably eager to change the subject, "You seem a bit… off."

Wyomi attempted to smile, but instead she felt her face droop into a deep frown. She was sure that the exaggerated wrinkles of her face painted quite the unflattering picture at the moment. Sadly, the wild days of her youth had run her rough and ragged. It was at an early age that she had first become acquainted with alcohol, as well as some less-than-MACUSA-approved potions sold to her by some less-than-MACUSA-approved "friends." Yes, her self-inflicted struggles with potions addictions had done little to help her weathered body, or her fragile nerves.

Now, nearly two decades after she had kicked her smorgasboard of addictions clear, she was still fighting to recover from the agonies of her childhood. Without warning, warm, stinging tears collected about her bottom eyelids, spilling over and tracing long, wet lines through the wrinkly crevices of her face. It was impossible to mask her sorrow, such an impossible feat to accomplish, while staring into those warm, amber eyes that looked oh-so-brilliantly like Chayton's.

"I've been better, Lex," she sobbed, her voice a thin warble, "Today is… today is a rough day for me… Thank you for asking."

"Has someone taken your statement already? Do you have anything to report?" the Auror interjected, his voice suddenly heavy with the firm, unyielding weight of authority.

Wyomi was quite taken aback by the man's callous questioning, but she supposed tears, blood, and death were regular occurrences in his profession, thanks to the Scourers. Lex was not quite so forgiving, however… She scoffed, and snapped a sharp Excuse me! that the Auror promptly ignored.

Not wishing to disturb her customers further, especially Lex, Wyomi attempted to reign in her tears. She sniffed a few times, grabbed a napkin from behind the bar, and dabbed at her leaking eyes.

"Yes, yes, Aurors swept through here earlier… Everyone at The Bloody Banshee has been accounted for, and," Wyomi answered in her best, official "bar matron" voice, "as I told your colleagues, I've been working here, behind the bar, all day. I didn't witness the bombing, myself, but I've been keeping an eye out for any suspicious customers. They took statements from them too."

The Auror, however, was not yet satisfied, and continued pressing her with questions, "Why do you think it was a bomb? Did the Aurors tell you that?"

Wyomi was beginning to understand Lex's irritation with this man. He was obviously very dedicated to his job, and charming enough, when he put in the effort, but he was certainly not someone she wanted poking and prodding his way into her business. She had already begun to feel a twinge of irrational guilt building in her chest, as if he were about to explain to her why she was, in fact, the true culprit.

"No, I was actually hoping that you'd be able to give us some information," Wyomi stated, indignant, "But, honestly, I think everyone already knows what happened, and who's responsible. The Scourers exploded one of those non-magical bombs! It's just common sense!"

"You're quick to jump to conclusions, Miss… Wyomi, was it?" the man inquired, waiting for Wyomi's nod of affirmation, before continuing in an icy tone, "Wyomi, where did you hear it was a Scourer attack?"

"It's always a Scourer attack!" Wyomi snapped bitterly.

She could hardly believe that the Auror was wasting everyone's time with such idiotic questions. The American wizarding world had been under attack for centuries now! A new group of Scourers always appeared in one form or another, wreaking havoc and destruction upon unsuspecting magicals. Merlin's beard - the entire city of New York had once needed a citywide Obliviation, thanks to those twits! And atrocities like Obscurials, poor repressed witches and wizards that they were, wouldn't even exist in today's world, if it weren't for the magic-hating drivel that Scourers like the Second Salemers spouted.

"But, why?" asked Lex in a hushed voice, "Why are they doing this? Why attack a bank?"

The Auror glowered at Lex, an irritated expression disrupting his usual smug smirk. He then sighed, and shook his head, as if the entire premise was ridiculous. Wyomi, however, understood the girl's emotional disquiet.

Oftentimes, at Wyomi's childhood orphanage, she and her siblings-by-circumstance would discuss, and attempt to make sense of, many of the uglier aspects of human nature. Why did parents abandon their children? How could predators bring themselves to prey on the innocent? How could life be so cruel? None of the orphans ever found satisfactory answers, and the need to comprehend the rationale behind the evil events that plagued them, the purpose behind their pain, always remained. No, Wyomi would not dismiss Lex's questions so heartlessly. She deserved to know the truth.

"To create panic, to incite terror! Scourers are insane, bloodthirsty savages," spat Wyomi, slamming her hands down onto the wooden countertop, and sending the two resting mugs into a wobbling fit, "so don't you dare think on it, Lex. Don't think for a second that there's any rhyme or reason to their carnage! Trying to make sense of those brutes, trying to understand their twisted minds, will only drive you mad."

All amusement had now vanished from the Auror's face, his mouth drawn into a thin, grim line, and his eyes sparkling dangerously. Lex shot him a wary, sidelong glance, before returning her gaze to Wyomi's face. Lex's eyes had grown wide with a mixture of confusion and shock. She appeared to be at a loss for words, but the Auror was having no such difficulty.

"The only one inciting panic right now is you, madame," Seth growled, turning towards Lex, and dismissively away from Wyomi, before instructing Lex calmly and succinctly, "Lex, I assure you, the Aurors Office is more than capable of handling this threat. Please, do not allow yourself to be drawn-in by the hype. No official statements have been made, no information yet released, so any rumors you hear at this time are pure conjecture."

"Conjecture!" Wyomi howled, hopelessly incensed by the young man's disparaging behavior, "What other roving band of sociopaths is out there blowing up magicals with non-magical bombs?"

"Miss Wyomi," he began in a patronizing tone, "again, no information about the attack has yet been released, so why, in Merlin's name, would you assume it was a non-magical bomb?"

Wyomi growled in frustration, "I don't think I much like your attitude, young man! And the other Aurors were all so polite, too! What's your name, eh? I'd like to file a complaint!"

"I am Auror Seth Roman. You're welcome to file a complaint with our Public Relations Quality Assurance subdivision, PRQA, if you feel that you've been mistreated," he answered smoothly, without the slightest hint of unease, "It does get a bit backlogged at times, however, so I'd advise you to Floo to MACUSA HQ as soon as the lockdown is lifted - if you wish to get home before dark. Otherwise, I'm afraid, all of that waiting, and paperwork can be quite tedious."

Lex released an inexplicable volley of dry laughter, before summarily hiding her face behind her hands. Auror Roman simply stared at Wyomi over the top of his mug, as he took a long swig of his butterbeer, and then plunked the copper mug right back down onto the countertop.

Wyomi's frustration had finally peaked, and a lightning-bolt-shaped crack sliced suddenly through Roman's mostly-untouched mug of Butterbeer. A metallic chink sounded, as the copper mug warped inward in the shape of a thrown fist. Then, a shimmering fountain of golden liquid jettisoned from the lip of the mug, and upwards into the Auror's face, before sloshing back down onto the countertop and floor below.

Unfortunately, one of the more embarrassing side-effects of Wyomi's battle with potions addictions was an increase in incidents of accidental magic. As her anxiety grew, so did the likelihood of triggering such an event. One of these days, she was afraid, her accidental magic would land her in some serious trouble.

Fortunately, in this instance, the victim of her inabilities did not raise a fuss, and she muttered her sincerest apologies, as she quickly retrieved her wand, and siphoned up the sticky mess. The Auror had returned to his cool, unaffected demeanor, and waved her off, as he dried his own clothes with a couple flicks of his wand. Then, he watched in mild curiosity, as Lex carefully patted at some wet spots on her shirt with a napkin.

Wyomi's anger had rapidly drained from her body, replaced only with heavy sorrow, and exhaustion. Ashamed of her childish outburst, Wyomi struggled to compose herself, once more. The trials of the day had successfully dragged the traumas of her past to the surface. She usually kept to herself on Chayton's birthday, but today was something unusual. Today, Wyomi decided, she was ready to share.

"I know it's a no-maj bomb, Roman, because I've seen this happen once before," she answered darkly, "The Scourers did the exact same thing… the day they murdered my little brother."

Immediately, Lex's brow furrowed, her expression pained and sympathetic, but Roman simply proceeded with his interrogation, voice insistent and demanding, "Which attack was this?"

"Pah! It was decades ago, long before you were born, let alone serving as an Auror… they call it the Orphanage Massacre of '87," she sighed, releasing a short mirthless laugh, and then continuing, "It's sad isn't it? Sad that they had to add a year to the name… I mean, when you mention an orphanage massacre, you shouldn't have to ask 'which one?' It's horrible… Anyway, this was the last recorded case of a Scourer attack on an orphanage. The horror has never really ended for me, though…"

"What was his name?" Lex whispered softly.

Lex had remained silent through most of Wyomi's "disagreement" with Auror Roman, and Wyomi was pleased that she had decided to join the conversation, once more. Her gentle questions, and familiar manner of speaking were as warm and welcoming, as Roman's were cold and callous.

"Chayton, Chayton Wolfe, sweetie. He wasn't my biological brother, but we grew up together. I even gave him my last name… I suppose, we sort of adopted each other, Chayton and I - we were both orphans, you see."

Wyomi retrieved a pitcher of butterbeer, a new copper mug, and her copy of The Quibbler from her place behind the bar. She continued to reminisce aloud, while pouring Auror Roman a new serving of his beverage.

"Both his parents had died of natural causes. It was a small family, and there were no living family members to take him in, so, next thing you know, this little toddler shows up at my orphanage," she sighed, grabbing her mangly dishrag from behind the counter, and scrubbing at the countertop, while she spoke, "I, myself, was still hurting. I was lonely, oh so lonely, after my family got the Tap. And… from the moment Chayton and I first saw each other, something just clicked. We became inseparable."

"What's the Tap?" Lex interrupted hesitantly, biting her lower lip.

The young witch sat with her chin resting in her hands, leaning forward, and listening intently, as Wyomi recounted her past. Auror Roman wasn't nearly as entranced, of course, but he seemed genuinely interested in the discussion, as he drank his butterbeer. She noted with satisfaction that he was drinking this serving of butterbeer much more quickly than he had the last.

Wyomi was always somewhat disturbed, however, to find that so few wizards and witches were familiar with the plight of the no-maj-born. Or, perhaps, they merely chose to feign ignorance. She supposed that the harsh system wasn't exactly ideal press for MACUSA, and, thus, MACUSA employees most likely did everything in their power to downplay it in the eyes of the public. Though it promised misfortune for Wyomi and other no-maj-born, popular opinion was that The Tap was a necessary evil to maintain the integrity of the International Statute of Secrecy.

"Oh dear, my age must be showing! Or… possibly, you're unfamiliar with the no-maj-born system?" she replied helpfully.

"I don't know nearly as much as I'd like to," answered Lex bluntly.

Auror Roman plunked his now-empty glass onto the table, before gazing at Lex with an amused expression. He drew his arm in a grand, sweeping gesture, as if he were granting Wyomi permission to speak in his royal court.

Then, he urged her onward in a low drawl, his request more of a command, "Please, enlighten us."

Lex and Wyomi shared an exasperated glance, before Wyomi proceeded to educate her audience.

"Well, as I'm sure you already know, Auror Roman, the Statute of Secrecy is very strict about fraternization with no-maj-kind. Any no-maj-born is an instant security risk. Every family member, and friend is a potential leak… every instance of… accidental magic is a potential scandal," said Wyomi, wincing in embarrassment, when she mentioned accidental magic, "but what fewer people know, because most people have no reason to pay attention, or - Merlin's pants - actually question MACUSA, is that no-maj-born are given a hopeless choice, in order to lower the risk to the community."

Wyomi could tell from Auror Roman's sour expression that he knew what was coming next. Lex, however, was at the edge of her seat, leaning forward with a look of intense concentration on her face. Her brow furrowed, and eyes alert, it was as if Lex were attempting to translate the meaning of life from a parchment full of Gobbledegook.

Wyomi obliged her, and continued, "At the age of eleven, when most no-maj-born are first identified, the no-maj-born is given the choice of leaving their no-maj family immediately, to be raised in a wizarding orphanage, or waiting until they are seventeen, a legal adult, and giving their family the Tap. Friends and family of a no-maj-born are going to be given the Tap either way - your choice, really, is just how you want to be raised."

"Yes, but what is the Tap?" pressed Lex.

"It's colloquial slang for Obliviating all no-maj memories of a magical child. It's named for the way you tap your wand to someone's head before you Obliviate them," Auror Roman answered abruptly.

Wyomi was reminded that she didn't know much about Lex's background. The American magical community was smaller than its European counterpart, and much-less-concentrated, or culturally-uniform, across its numerous locales. Small, distinct pockets of culture popped up all across the Americas, and each area was granted a respectable degree of autonomy, similar to each state within the United States. Wyomi couldn't help but wonder to which community Lex belonged. She certainly wasn't a city-crawler, for, if she were, she'd certainly be accustomed to the rich, colorful vocabulary that was American wizarding slang.

"That's awful!" gasped Lex, openly appalled, as she slapped her right hand over her chest.

"I must agree," said Auror Roman, much to Wyomi's surprise.

The Auror propped his mug between his thumb and index finger, aimlessly spinning it in place, with a distant stare, and deflated smile. Wyomi was suddenly reminded that she didn't know much about his background either.

"Yes, it is awful. But, that's the price we pay for being what we are," she sighed, eliciting a communal frown between the two witches and the wizard.

"I'm so sorry, Wyomi…" whispered Lex, as Roman simply hardened his gaze.

Guilt nagged at Wyomi's insides, her body clearly uncomfortable with accepting any form of pity. She didn't feel sorry for herself, or her lot in life. On the contrary, she felt she very much deserved it. Perhaps it was merely retroactive karma for her actions, or more appropriately, inaction, but Wyomi knew that she deserved to suffer.

"Don't be sorry for me. My pain is my own doing, Lex," the woman sighed, her face drooping until every bitter decade was laid bare on her face, "You see, the guilt is the hardest part… I'm not innocent. If I'd been a better sister… if I'd kept my word, Chayton would have survived that night too."

Auror Roman's expression was unreadable, but he appeared to be deep in thought. Fixing her with his steady gaze, Wyomi was briefly worried that the man might actually open a formal investigation into her guilt. As intense as he was, she certainly wouldn't put him past a "witch hunt."

"What do you mean by that?" questioned Auror Roman, with a coolness that was becoming quite predictable.

"Don't you wonder why I'm standing here, alive, today?" she laughed hollowly, "I snuck out that night… I was sixteen, and stupid. I didn't care much for my schoolwork - all I could think about was boys, boys, boys! There was one boy, a werewolf, that liked to lurk around the outskirts of town. You see, the Wolfsbane potion had only been around for a few years, and there was still a lot of stigma attached to lycanthropy, so werewolves like him stuck to themselves mostly, wandering the woods."

Wyomi crooked a finger at her fancy chair behind the bar, and it eagerly waddled over. She lowered herself onto the chair, and began to twirl a long, jet-black strand of hair around her finger, as she spoke.

"He was handsome, dangerous, and off-limits, so, naturally, I was crazy about the guy. Every couple of weeks he'd show up, back in town, and I would drop everything to run and see him," she sighed, lost in nostalgia, before shaking the memories from her mind, and continuing with her tale, "Anyway, the day of the bombing, Chayton's idol, Newton Scamander - you know, the famous magizoologist… Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them… Anyway, he was in town for a book signing, along with Chayton's other idol, Luna Lovegood."

Wyomi lifted The Quibbler from its resting place on her lap, and held it erect for the young couple to see. Despite her significant, sentimental reasons for reading The Quibbler, Wyomi still felt a little embarrassed at times to be seen reading the magazine oh-so-appropriately nicknamed the 'lunatic rag.' Thus, even through the stifling sorrow of the moment, a sheepish grin still managed to worm its way onto her face.

"Luna Lovegood's family publishes The Quibbler, you see…" Wyomi explained weakly.

She set the paper back down, relieved when neither Lex, nor Auror Roman seemed affected in the least. Roman had made it quite clear that he thought little of her "conjecture," or reasoning skills, and she didn't need him to find yet another reason to portray her as a madwoman.

"Anyway, Chayton was obsessed with becoming a magizoologist. I promised I would sneak him out with me to go to the book signing that afternoon, but then my hunky, werewolf crush showed up, and… I took off without him. I just - I just left -" wailed Wyomi, choking back tears.

The cover of his leathery suitcase was covered several times over in stickers he'd collected, each one marking a different exotic location the Scamanders had visited. The back of the suitcase only wore a single sticker for now, but he swore to fill it with stickers of his own, once he was old enough to travel. He sat cross-legged on the floor, stuffing toy dragons, and various other knick-knacks he'd found to present to his idols, into the plain case. Hanging a silly, butterbeer-cap necklace around his neck, he gazed up at her with warm, amber eyes, and a toothy smile. Brimming with excitement, he exclaimed gleefully, "This is going to be so awesome! Thanks for taking me, Wyomi!"

Lex reached across the bar, and squeezed Wyomi's hand gently. Wyomi warmed at the kind witch's gesture, and quickly fought through the thick, suffocating bramble of her painful memories. They had nearly depleted all the napkins stacked at this segment of the bar, but she grabbed yet another, dabbing at her eyes, and then blowing her nose.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Anyway," she continued with a deep sigh, "That night, when I returned to the orphanage, I couldn't even see past the line of Aurors. The fire had died, but you could still smell the smoke in the air… And when I finally caught a glimpse, I could see the Mediwizards… they were picking through the blackened wreckage of the building, trying to identify bodies… but, no one had survived. No one, but me."

Wyomi placed a toy dragon tenderly upon the countertop. Its metallic gray body scales were accented by bronze horns, and a line of bronze spikes formed a ridge down its back. The scales surrounding its face, as well as its back ridges, faded to black, emphasizing a pair of vivid, crimson eyes. As soon as its little feet touched the wooden countertop, the feisty figurine began swiping playfully at Wyomi's fingers with its long, "vicious" talons.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked distantly.

Lex shook her head, reaching a hand forward to stroke the toy's back. She wiggled her fingers to-and-fro, watching in fascination, as the lively dragon chased after them. After a few seconds, it hopped onto its back, and waited for Lex to gently rub its stomach.

"It's a dragon figurine," Roman stated in a bored voice.

Now that the more "relevant" part of her story was finished, Roman was obviously anxious to return to the Auror business she'd so rudely interrupted. Wyomi supposed she had already taken up enough of their time, and could always speak to Lex on some later date. Thus, she resolved to finish her story as quickly as possible. She was still only on page three of The Quibbler, after all…

"Of course, it's a figurine! I'm not even close to qualified to handle a baby dragon…" Wyomi bellowed, noting that Lex's large, round eyes looked about ready to pop right out of her skull, "I meant the breed! It's an Ironbelly Ridgeback. Ukranian Ironbellies are the world's largest dragons, and Romanian Ridgebacks are some of the world's rarest, and meanest. Even rarer than a Ridgeback, though, are dragon hybrids. And, this one," she said, pointing to the toy dragon, which had begun blowing smoke rings from its nose, "the Ironbelly Ridgeback, is one of the rarest of all."

Lex murmured a hushed, reverent Wow, while Roman rolled his eyes. He tapped his fingers anxiously against the countertop, and glanced over at the stack of parchments he'd set aside when Wyomi had first interrupted. Yes, she knew that she was officially overstaying her welcome… She'd do her best not to antagonize the bothersome Auror any further.

"Largest, and meanest - that sounds like a recipe for disaster," he remarked scornfully.

"It's obviously very closely monitored, and regulated," Wyomi responded defensively, always a bit annoyed to hear Chayton's interests criticized, no matter how logical the criticism, "Hybrids are the most deadly, the most dangerous. But, it's for good reason - they take the best of both breeds, and create one that's even better, one capable of more than what either breed was capable of alone."

Lex perked up, and added cheerfully, "You mean to say, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts?"

Lex was clearly an intelligent woman, and most likely had been much more successful and diligent than Wyomi with her magical education - of course, that wasn't really saying much, Wyomi admitted ruefully. Something about the phrase 'sum of its parts,' however, jogged a memory of an Advanced Potions class at Ilvermorny.

Not wishing to look completely uneducated, she added as nonchalantly as possible, "Yes, exactly. Eh, isn't that Golpalott's Law, or something?"

"Err… I'm not sure. I just remember the phrase," Lex said with a friendly laugh.

Wyomi smiled. She didn't even know why she had bothered worrying. Lex was one of the least judgmental witches she had ever met! Her warm acceptance continuously cut through Wyomi's worries, like radiant sunbeams through a cloudy haze.

"No matter, sweetie - I wasn't much interested in books either!" Wyomi exclaimed, while Lex furrowed her brow quizzically, and Roman chortled, "Anyway, the Ironbelly Ridgeback was always Chayton's favorite. He gave me this little figurine for Christmas one year. I suspect he gave it to me, because he really wanted to play with it, but I didn't mind… He told me that it was his favorite, so I should have it, and he would always keep me company. Now it's the only thing I have left of him."

Wyomi fought back the bile that rose in her throat thanks to the painful weight of her last, bitter statement. She stroked the toy dragon's ridged back absently, as a lone tear trickled down the contours of her left cheek.

"The fire that night didn't burn even half as hot as an Ironbelly Ridgeback's breath, but the Scourers were more malevolent than any dragon… They say the skeletons showed signs of torture - skulls crushed, bones snapped. Between their mutilation and the flames, it was enough to mangle the bodies of my friends, my family, beyond all recognition. MACUSA just guessed for the burials…"

Wyomi wiped the single tear from her cheek, and stood from her seat. Auror Roman looked quite relieved, as she collected her things to go. Wyomi then nudged her chair, and it trotted off to an empty corner of the bar, where she would soon read, and ruminate in peace.

"Now, every year, on his birthday, I buy and read the latest edition of The Quibbler," she said, patting the paper she held clutched to her chest fondly, before admitting, "It's a lunatic rag, alright, but it's Luna Lovegood's paper, and one of Chayton's old favorites. I've got an entire stack of 'em, dating all the way back to '87. Every year, I read it for him…"

With a great, heaving sigh, she turned to leave. After offering the two of them free refills, as well as the typical bartender's spiel, she gave Lex one final nod, and walked away. Then, settling into her fancy seat, she opened The Quibbler to page three.

---

"And here I thought bartenders were supposed to listen to you talk about your own problems," chuckled Seth, as Wyomi returned to her distant corner.

After leaving the outdoor patio, around 3 PM, Seth had generously, or, perhaps, shrewdly, allowed Lex to choose which dining establishment they visited for their late lunch. Having visited only one magical shop, and one magical dining facility in her entire young life, the answer was quite obviously The Bloody Banshee.

Lex was now immensely grateful for her pumpkin-based-product obsession, for if she hadn't stumbled upon The Bloody Banshee two days prior, in her mad search for a Pumpkin Spice Latte, she would have been forced to rely on her unreliable skills of improvisation to explain why she couldn't name a single magical restaurant. Seth surely would have smelled blood in the water. That man was like a shark when it came to sniffing out suspicious activity, and her non-magical self definitely didn't need to go and send him into the feeding frenzy of his life…

Seth had only managed to obtain the basic information of what time Lex had entered The Inside Out, and where she was at the time of the explosion of "unconfirmed origin," when Wyomi suddenly interrupted. Lex's tortured, twisting nerves were immensely relieved by the welcome disruption, while Wyomi regaled her and Seth with tales of the past, as well as her passionate interpretations of recent events. Seth was far less pleased, but he appeared to salvage some facts of interest from the proceedings, nonetheless.

Lex still wasn't sure what to make of their confusing, explosive "debate," but she concluded that it really wasn't her biggest concern right now. Wyomi certainly seemed anxious and fragile, just like Lex imagined anyone would be after the tragedy of a loved one's murder. However, Scourers were a potential threat that she couldn't quite prepare for at the moment, and the Seth Roman Inquisition was a definite threat that was occurring right at this moment. She decided that her own judgment of recent events could wait until after Seth's beloved, official, MACUSA statements were made.

"Shall we return to my interview?" asked Lex eagerly, ignoring Seth's snide remark.

She was sure that Seth had already learned a great deal about her from her interactions with Wyomi, but Lex had gleaned a great deal of valuable information from the conversation too. When Wyomi had explained the no-maj-born system, Lex had seized upon a brilliant idea. Well, it was the brightest idea she had, at least…

Summoning all the knowledge she had of squibs from the Flourish & Fontaine books, as well as her blossoming friendship with Jeremiah Jonker, Lex realized that being a squib might be a disappointment in a wandshop, but here, in front of an Auror, it could be her saving grace.

In the magical literature she'd read, squibs were sometimes viewed even more harshly than no-maj, with some families disowning squib offspring, and other, kinder families simply sending them to live among the non-magicals. Ugh, really, the entire concept had read like the end of a cliché, tear-jerking, animal film, where, at the end of the film, the superior creature does what's best for the simpleton, and releases it into the wild. Lex had read so much ridiculous nonsense in some of those books at Flourish & Fontaine, such as the killer washing machines in When Muggles Attack, that she had been certain the reports of anti-squib sentiment were greatly exaggerated. After meeting Jeremiah Jonker, however, she knew that she had been wrong.

Magical governments somewhat begrudgingly allowed squibs to remain in the magical community, if the squib so desired, but, officially, the magical governments didn't even record their births. However, their paperwork nightmare was Lex's subterfuge dream. To rise to the mantle of "squibdom," she didn't need to provide wizarding school transcripts, she didn't need to provide a birth certificate, and she didn't need to provide a wand permit. All she needed to provide was a stellar acting performance.

To squib or not to squib? thought Lex's inner jokester, To thine own squib be true…

Shut up - this isn't Hamlet! chided the inner rationalist.

Shall I compare thee to a raining-explosive-hashtag-non-magical-fugitive-life day?, continued the jokester.

Okay, now you're just trying too hard… Lex thought in exasperation, attempting to reign in her inopportune humor, and prepare for a serious ordeal.

Seth pulled his antique pocketwatch from his cloak pocket, and glanced at the time. Lex wasn't sure what he could possibly have to do, since she'd just heard Wilkinson give him the rest of the day off, but she knew that his haste could only be useful to her. If he felt pressured to hurry this interrogation along, it meant that he'd be spending less time scrutinizing, and dissecting all of Lex's responses. Hope swelled in her chest, as it dawned on her that she might actually pull this off…

"Yes, indeed. We need to get through the rest of the basics, as well as a few follow-up questions," he answered ominously, "But, I'm afraid, given all the… interruptions, we won't have time to eat."

"Okay, let's get this over with, then," Lex said, perhaps too cheerfully.

Seth raised an eyebrow, and looked at her quizzically. He probably wished to ask why she was suddenly so chipper, but, ultimately, he stayed true to the task at hand. If the notion that she was eager to get away from Seth had even occurred to him, Lex was sure that he was much too arrogant to admit it.

"Alright," he stated firmly, as he jotted a brief note, across a piece of yellow parchment, in his tiny, cursive scrawl, "The time is 4:32 PM, on October twenty-third. Let us begin."

He set his pocketwatch delicately down onto the countertop between them. The watch was encased in dark, stainless steel, over which webbed detailed engravings of winding tree branches, human hands, and decorative wisps of flame. Shining, silver roman numerals circled a ruby-red window, which covered the ticking, turning gears hidden within its shell, and a sophisticated pair of silver watch hands pointed to four, and six, respectively. Despite the intricacy of its parts, however, the watch's overall appearance was simple, manly, and elegant. Lex felt that Seth could not have picked for himself a more appropriate watch.

"Alexandra, you entered The Inside Out at approximately 8:30 AM this morning, and were within visual range of The Bank of the Fae at 10:23 AM, when it exploded. Is that correct?" Seth echoed emotionlessly, looking briefly up from his parchment to confirm her brisk nod, "Good. Prior to the explosion, where were you, and is there anyone who can confirm your whereabouts?"

Lex released a short sigh. She had not been expecting this question, but she supposed it could only serve to strengthen the cover story she'd concocted. Collecting her wits about her, she quickly noted that any believable, emotional descriptions she could give of her supposed life-as-a-squib would lend credibility to her supposedly-innocuous motivations.

I went to the wandshop, because I hoped I was a late-bloomer. Insert sappy feelings here… I went to the bank, because I needed to exchange the no-maj money I earn at my no-maj job for dragots. Insert anti-no-maj lamentations here… thought Lex quickly, doing her best to get "into character."

"I was at Jonker's Wandcraftery. Jeremiah Jonker, a fellow squib, can confirm," she answered matter-of-factly.

Seth perked up immediately at the word 'squib,' and quite uncharacteristically blurted out the question, "You're a squib?"

Now, Lex prepared herself for the more difficult part. If she were to engage in true, convincing "method acting," she needed to become the squib she had invented. She needed to anticipate the kind of responses a squib in her fictional position would give, and the sort of attitude they'd exhibit. She needed to behave as someone who belonged in this world would - unafraid of speaking her mind to Auror Seth Roman. Yes, "Lex-the-Squib" needed to push back - she needed to play the player.

"Yes, I'm a squib, Seth! Geez, couldn't you tell?" she asked in scornful amusement.

A squib would be flattered to be mistaken for a witch, right? Or would they be upset? Ugh! Oh well, it's too late now… she thought, Flattered it is…

His eyes met hers with a searching gaze. Beneath his calm, outer shell, Lex could see him carefully calculating this new information, the gears of his mind turning, as steadily and nimbly as the metal gears of his pocket watch.

"No, I couldn't. I apologize. I noticed you lack a wand, but I had overlooked the possibility of you being a squib…" he stated flatly, before asking the obvious question, "Why were you at the wandshop?"

Here we go - the biggest moment of my acting career. Break a leg… thought Lex, bolstering her resolve.

"Well, uh, I know it's silly… I mean, the whole 'late-bloomer' thing is a major long-shot… You've probably got a better chance of finding a Hidebehind in the dark…" she stammered, while chuckling nervously, and repeatedly clasping and unclasping her hands over her lap.

"You were hoping you'd be chosen by a wand?" Seth asked skeptically.

"Yes! Like I said, I know it's dumb… It's just that I've been feeling differently, and, well… Every time I feel a bit different, I think maybe it's my magic. Maybe, it's my magic finally kicking in, you know?" she pleaded anxiously, doing her best to sound simultaneously desperate, self-deprecating, and hopeful.

Seth's expression softened slightly, as he at last relented, gave a sharp sigh, and instructed her simply, "Okay, let's move on."

Lex found that it was surprisingly easy to pretend to be a "normal," permanent squib - she hadn't even lied yet! She supposed she technically was a squib at the moment - albeit a temporary one - but she wasn't naive enough to believe that her awkward status would be sufficient to satiate Seth and the rest of MACUSA. Instead, she felt the greatest likelihood of success lay with selling a convincing, partially-honest act. She placed her faith as an actress in channeling her genuine, tumultuous feelings of magical-inadequacy, and spot-checking her own squib-imitating performance with the reliable mantra What would Jeremiah Jonker do?

Seth finished penning his latest notes, and droned on, "Please, describe what you saw in William's Square around the time of the explosion. Did you see anyone, or anything out-of-the-ordinary?"

Lex consciously furrowed her brow, and fixated on one the folds of Seth's black cloak. She pretended to be furiously racking her brain for every minute detail, though she, honestly, would have no idea what ordinary even was in the magical world. Contextually, she figured that 'William's Square' must be the courtyard square that featured the formerly-grand Bank of the Fae, and she mentally filed the fact away for later.

When Seth finally cleared his throat loudly, and glanced over the countertop at his watch, Lex discontinued her current act.

"I'm sorry, I just can't remember anything unusual, besides the explosion. I guess I wasn't paying enough attention," she answered, with an abashed smile, before proceeding to describe in gruesome detail the charred corpses she had seen.

Before she knew it, however, she was no longer acting. The devastation of the day was still fresh in her mind, the horror and violence of those moments seared into her memory with sharp, pristine, perfect clarity. Remembering the all-encompassing fear that had consumed her, all heat drained from her body, leaving her empty, cold, and trembling.

"Okay, that's enough, Lex," Seth snapped, his voice deep, and commanding, "I assure you, MACUSA personnel will have already conducted a thorough inspection of the cadavers, and the crime scene."

Once he'd confirmed that Lex had, indeed, stopped reliving the morning's trauma and returned to the present, Seth returned to his careful penmanship. Amazingly, he was still writing on the same piece of relatively short, yellow parchment. However, understanding immediately blossomed within Lex's awareness, as she watched him tap the yellow page once with his wand, and then watched the parchment clear itself of its ink. A new, official-looking document subsequently faded into view, and Lex had to begrudgingly admit that MACUSA wasn't quite as inefficient as the colonial-style buildings, and medieval-esque, magical objects had led her to believe.

"Where did you go, after the explosion, and is there anyone who can confirm your whereabouts?" Seth asked, proceeding with his relentless line of questioning.

Lex's mind was whirring, like an overclocked computer, and it quickly computed the most advantageous solution to the posed problem. Obviously, she would gloss over the "alcove incident," as best she could. The rest of the day's happenings were largely safe, vague, and boring. Yes, she could safely relate the rest of the story, but there was still room to succeed with style…

"Well, like I said before, there was smoke everywhere, and people were running and screaming. I turned and ran, as well. It took me a while, but I eventually made it back to the southern entrance. A man I've never met before healed me, while I stopped to catch my breath, and, then, when he was done, I decided to calm my nerves. I pulled out an old copy of The New York Ghost, and sat down at a table to work on a crossword puzzle."

"Uh huh, I see, and -"

"Oh, no, wait - I'm not done! There was this really obnoxious guy, who kept pestering me…" she began in mock concern, leaning over, and staring at the parchment as if she could actually read the microscopic letters of his flowing, cursive script, while she gestured repeatedly at the page, "Make sure you get this down! He was a shameless flirt - shameless! F-l-i-r-t… I asked him to leave repeatedly, but, you know, the harassment just continued -"

"Are you quite done?" Seth interrupted her dramatic arm-waving, his tone patronizing, yet amused.

"Ugh! Aren't you taking this seriously, Auror Roman?" Lex countered, encouraged when Seth tapped the parchment once more, and finalized his latest report, "What if he comes after me again? You're an Auror - you're supposed to protect me! This should be immediately reported to P-R-Q-A…"

"Yes, well, I'll be sure to tell the witches and wizards at Quality Assurance all about your dating woes," Seth drawled sarcastically.

"Dating woes? Oh, that's right - I forgot. This is a date," scoffed Lex, taking a swig of her recently-refilled pumpkin juice, and plopping the mug back onto the countertop, "You have a funny idea of a date, Auror Roman."

Seth murmured a simple Perhaps and grinned mischievously over the parchment he held between his hands.

"Now, for the follow-up questions… First, where did you get that copy of The New York Ghost?" he inquired nonchalantly.

Her shock at the question struck so suddenly that Lex was caught quite unaware, and her face immediately contorted into an unattractive expression of open bewilderment. Why on Earth would he care about the newspaper? Was he trying to pin her whereabouts to the alcove? If that was the case, she definitely needed to steer him away from that entire alcove visit. Omitting details wasn't lying… right?

She blurted in protest, "Why does that matter? How is the newspaper relevant?"

"Just curious," he stated bluntly, "I suppose you're right, though - it isn't very relevant, after all. Moving on… my second question, what are your parents names? I am unfamiliar with the Austin line."

Ah, he was clever… Lex had hoped to skip this chapter of her fictional narrative, for it was certainly the riskiest part of her planned cover story. Logical assumptions are only as useful as the data on which they are based. And, she didn't have nearly enough information about all of the intricacies of the magical world - certainly, not enough to truly know whether or not she was weaving a plausible tale.

For example, she knew that the Obliviation spells removed memories, but she didn't know the limitations of said spells, or their legality. The best she could do was work with the limited information she'd been given, make some educated guesses, and pray that her mind's heuristic engine was up to the task…

I'm ashamed of my squib past, she thought, trying to get into character, I've got major abandonment issues… Angst. Grrr.

She began with a mournful sigh.

"I don't know," she said dully, settling her gaze on the floor, and maneuvering her facial muscles into a downcast expression.

Seth was clearly puzzled, and he shot back skeptically, "What do you mean you don't know? You have to know…"

"No, I don't," she spat, before explaining glumly, "They didn't want me to remember… They were ashamed of my - of my -"

Lex paused for dramatic effect. She hung her head, and a thick, auburn curtain of hair fell loosely about her face, as if it were a dramatic theater curtain drawn closed, before the start of a play. She next crossed her arms tightly across her chest, and squeezed.

Don't overdo it now! warned her inner rationalist, You've supposedly had years to process and deal with this harsh, brutal reality… Remember, it's got to be believable…

Gasping, as if it to summon her strength, she abruptly sat up straight, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face.

Then, with a blank, emotionless expression, she fixed Seth with a steady gaze, and said, in a voice cool, and detached, "My parents were ashamed of my status as a squib. Rather than disown me, and leave me to fend for myself, they decided to set me up with a no-maj family… after Obliviating any memories I could use to return, or to identify them."

Seth's startled expression was priceless, and it took all of Lex's self-control to maintain her grim visage. She hoped that his surprise was at the actions of her fictional parents, and not at an illogical explanation.

"Wha - what?" Seth stuttered in a manner that must have felt extremely foreign on his silver-tongue, "That's… barbaric. Why haven't you reported this to MACUSA?"

Satisfied with his response, Lex decided to spice things up with a light, bitter seasoning of signature Jeremiah Jonker, "You think MACUSA would actually care about the fate of a squib? It's a squib versus a magical family. We've already seen how that plays out…"

Lex hadn't seen how that plays out. In fact, she was vaguely appalled, when she realized she had no idea what she was even talking about anymore. From all of the research she'd done, she could only recall one datapoint - one. Yes, unfortunately, Lex did not have an eidetic memory, or current access to her cellphone photos, but, quite fortunately, Seth was perfectly capable of filling in the blanks for clueless her.

With a short sigh, he drew his mouth into a thin, grim line, and admitted, "You're right. I wish you weren't, but at this point I don't think MACUSA can help. Currently, the Auror office has much higher priorities… Did your parents, and I use that term loosely, False Memory Charm the no-maj family they left you with?"

"I don't know all the specifics. I wasn't meant to," Lex answered stoically, "They made it so that I couldn't identify them, and left."

"I suspect they also protected their identities, in order to escape blame, and persecution," he stated grimly, "Using Obliviation spells… possibly False Memory Charms… and on no-maj, nonetheless! These are serious offenses, Lex."

Lex was surprised to observe that Seth actually looked more than mildly upset by her story. He chugged what was rest of his butterbeer, and slapped the empty mug down onto the counter. His face was contorted into a deep scowl, a wild gleam in his eye.

He didn't once flinch, while Wyomi recounted a tale featuring mutilated, burned, orphan children, but now he was upset by her getting a partial memory-wipe? Or, perhaps, was it that she was raised by no-maj? She knew that there was plenty of anti-no-maj sentiment, but… could he really be that petty?

Lex only had a brief chance to wonder, however. As quickly as this dark cloud of anger had passed over him, the cloud swiftly drifted away once more. Within seconds, Auror Roman was back on task.

"Last question, Lex…" he began, grasping his empty mug firmly between both hands, as he stared at the wall behind the bar, "...why didn't you expect Wyomi to recognize you?"

And… there goes the Oh shit! Emergency broadcast again… she thought bitterly, even as the panic set in.

Lex was stunned. Of all the lies to be caught in… damn. Wyomi believed that Lex had been attacked by Scourers. Of course, Wyomi seemed to think every issue was because of the Scourers… No. No, she refused to slip up, and miss out on magic, because of some misunderstanding she'd blundered into so obliviously on her very-first-day as a squib.

The most convincing lies were based in truth, and Lex decided that the truth was precisely what would get her out of this mess.

"I… had a really, really clumsy day, a few days ago," she said with a self-deprecating laugh, "I got a door slammed into my face, got bumped and pushed around… I had a nasty fall on the pavement, and, well, let's just say the bruises were hideous… So I came in here for a drink with a hat and a scarf around my face. Later, I finally took a potion, and it cleared right up."

Lex gave a final nonchalant shrug, and awaited the final results of her performance. Her judge looked somewhat disappointed, but he nodded slowly, and then casually slid a few silver coins onto the table, before scooping up his pocketwatch.

Glancing at the silvery hands of his watch, he announced formally, "Time is 5:12 PM. The entire session lasted exactly forty minutes."

Seth then returned his watch to his cloak pocket, as Lex murmured a brief Mmm hm. She didn't understand his need to monitor the time so meticulously, and wondered whether or not that was standard Auror operating procedure…

According to Auror Wilkinson, Seth wasn't well-known for being conventional or following the rules, but here he was acting the part of a paperwork-stickler… Seriously, did anyone know who this guy really was?

"I'll be in touch with the details for our next outing," Seth stated casually, as he folded his parchment paper, and stuffed it into the same cloak pocket that held his watch.

"Wait. What?" squealed Lex.

Had she missed something? Her mental faculties had been strained-to-the-max, and she yearned for the comfort of her bed, but even now she wasn't tired enough to forget their deal. They had struck a bargain, and these, sir, were not the terms…

"What's the confusion, Lex?" Seth responded with a sly grin, "You promised me one hour, and we have only used forty minutes. And, since we skipped lunch, we might as well be efficient, and use the remaining twenty minutes on a future meal."

No.

No, no, no, no - this was not happening again. Yet, even as her thoughts clamored in mental protest, she knew she was too tired to weasel out of this one. She had pulled enough fake, non-magical-impostor, Houdini-escape acts for one grim Sunday, thanks.

The Alexandra Austin Public Relations Creative Solutions subdepartment, PRCS, is now closed for the day. Please, return during our normal business hours, and, oh, just go on the stupid date, thought Lex's inner voices in wholly-unhelpful consensus.

"Fine," she grumbled.

Standing from her seat, and adjusting her coat, Lex attempted, but utterly failed to avoid Seth's self-satisfied smirk. Ugh, she couldn't believe this drama still wasn't over…. She slid off of her barstool, and waved goodbye to Wyomi, who'd finished The Quibbler long ago, and was now chatting at a table of cackling, middle-aged witches. Then, aside from a few short, exasperated groans from Lex, the couple walked in complete silence to the exit.

As they strolled towards the front door, Lex realized a surprising fact, an observation that, in her distracted state, she'd almost let pass unacknowledged - Seth hadn't recorded any of his follow-up questions. He hadn't reported a single one. Well, at least not in front of Lex…

If those weren't official questions, why did he ask? None of them had been particularly incriminating, after all. He had seemed rather upset by her squib fib. Could he be… no… was Seth Roman protecting her, and her personal "secrets"? Lex decided that this was definitely an observation to mentally file-away for later review.

Through one of the windows flanking the front door, Lex spied the skeletal skyscrapers, and shimmering dome of The Inside Out. A few stray witches, and wizards milled about the patchwork streets, and the entire area was awash in the beautiful pinks, purples, and oranges of a sunset.

However, right before her eyes, the picturesque view shifted. The scene was cut into long, thick ribbons, and flipped over to form a new scene, just like the lenticular images of an animated billboard. Now, the setting sun's rays cast warm light over an empty, no-maj street, and the glow of the orange and red sunlight sharply contrasted the dark, creeping shadows, which reached for a line of uniform, colonial-style buildings across the road.

Lex was not too tired to appreciate this last impressive display of Inside Out magic. She realized that, like the rest of The Inside Out, the entrances and exits to buildings must operate based on desire. Lex, Seth, or, perhaps, both of them together, had visualized in their mind the street to which they wanted to exit, and The Inside Out had obliged.

As the odd pair walked down the shadowy alley, beset by lines of colorful cobwebs, and adorable Jack-o-Lanterns, Seth suggestively offered to escort Lex home. Lex, however, was not born yesterday. Well, she was kind of reborn yesterday… But, that was beside the point! The point was, she knew better than to reveal to the enterprising, young Auror precisely where she lived. He probably had some sort of "Instant Stalkers Kit" book of spells waiting at home anyway, and she refused to make his job any easier. Because, really, the last thing her magical mission needed right now was Auror Seth Roman hovering about.

---

Thousands of tiny Ukrainian Ironbellies, and Norwegian Ridgebacks flitted about underneath the dome of The Inside Out. Their miniature wings, and puffs of smoky breath eclipsed the sun, until only small pinpricks of sunlight made it through the thick, buzzing swarm.

Lex stood in the middle of an empty courtyard, the darkness creeping in all around her.

Suddenly, the swarm of dragons swooped downward in a spiraling column, and surrounded Lex in a dusty cloud. Coarse, wispy wings, and sharp, glimmering talons brushed harmlessly at her neck, cheeks, and eyes.

Then, the dragon horde clumped together, pressing, and pulling against one another, merging into a metallic, grey glob, until the entire mob coalesced into a single, gigantic beast - an Ironbelly Ridgeback. The hybrid roared, and spat a bright, sweltering ball of orange, red, and white flame onto Lex. Then, like a star going nova, the blazing ball of fire erupted, its glorious, explosive burst burning Lex's body, and the rest of the world to ash. Nothing was left but endless darkness.

Amidst the darkness, a single, hanging light bulb finally flickered to life. A cone of yellow light shone down over the interior of Lex's living room. She sat on her couch, gazing at a crowd of black-clad figures seated across the coffee table. In the center of the assembly sat Seth Roman, his fierce gaze burning into her own.

In the dim light, the corners of her vision were dark, and faded. A warm, serenity seemed to emanate from Seth. He was a calm, pleasant lantern in the night, and she was a hopeful moth, drawn to his light. All was pleasant, and all was well.

He leaned forward, and soon his silky voice caressed her ears.

"I know you're not a squib, Lex. What are you?"

"I'm a no-maj," she said, her voice echoing, whispering about the growing darkness of the room.

"Tell me all your secrets, Lex. Tell me everything," he commanded.

And Lex obliged.

On October 24th, at 12:20 PM, Alexandra Austin awoke in a cold sweat.