My hands traveled up to my hair, nervously fixing the mess it had become during my fall. The sunlight was in low supply, the tiny pub only having a few small windows randomly scattered around. A great haze of smoke littered the air; a large cloud surrounding the plump, heavy bodies sitting on moldy wooden stools. My eyes skimmed across the depths of the Great Swine. . .

The Great Swine. . .

It certainly was.

Swallowing again, I picked myself back up and reached for my one bag. Trying my best to ignore the glares I was receiving– after all, you'd think I'd killed these people's families, the way they scowled violently– I opened the bag, backing into a corner. My heart dropped. Five magazines, one book, a sweater, a brush, a few wizard photographs, and some gum. Oh yes, I was quite ready to hike the Lewis and Clark trail with these savvy necessities. Perhaps I'll even climb the Rocky Mountains while I'm at it.

Thinking under pressure had never been my strong suit. Honestly, I now think I should have just stayed at the airport. There, I at least had all of my luggage. Now, I was down to the bare minimum. No money, no clothes, and I was somewhere in America. Truthfully, I think I was taking this all pretty well.

"Where the hell am I?" I whispered to myself, clutching the bag against my chest, straightening my shoulders, and lightly clearing my throat. Just because I had no dignity presently didn't mean I should let everyone else know it. A man with no front teeth hardened his right eyes as I passed by him and then spit on the ground, going back to his drink. I had no doubt if I made some sort of wrong move, one of the drinkers wouldn't hesitate to start their hexing.

Hexing. . .my hand flew down to my sweater pocket. I could have fainted from relief if not for the uncertainty of being mugged of my five magazines and brush while unconscious. At least I still had my wand. I might need it.

Thinking at least the bartender would have some sort of humane personality, I took a seat at the splintery bench on the very end of the bar, about five seats separating me from the nearest toper. My bag sat protectively on my lap as I leaned my elbows on the top and rested my chin in my palms. Mentally, I was reciting a prayer. The occupants leers were almost physically painful as they pierced my back. Their murmurs were practically shouts in my ears. 'A girl like her doesn't belong here.'

Yes, I certainly didn't.

"Excuse me," I said in a strained tone, doing my best to raise the volume of my voice to gain the young bartender's attention. The man, toothlessly smiling my way, continued wiping the glasses near him with a dirty dish rag.

"Can I get you something, Miss?" he asked in a surprisingly polite tone.

"Er," I said, still flustered, clutching my bag all the tighter, "I don't suppose you might tell me. . .where I am."
"The Great Swine, Miss," he answered in a distinct America accept, coming up to stand right in front of me.

I smiled weakly and asked, "State?" Just how far had I traveled away from Black Magic?

"New York, Miss," he replied patiently, resting one hand on the top of the bar as he leaned forward to stare at me curiously. Well, New York. . .I was at least in the same state. But, did that really help me? After all, I had no clue where our destination was going to be before I ended up here. All I knew was the small building I had left ten minutes ago wasn't it– at the time, I had been grateful. Now, though, I think I would have jumped at the chance to stay in that dusty shack if I knew my luggage would be returned to me.

"Fantastic," I muttered under my breath gloomily, staring down at the rickety wood I was in front of.

I felt an arm plant itself around my shoulders. My eyes widened and my heart thumped wildly. Sensing the person leaning closer, I heard his raspy voice tickle my ear, "Got spare change, honey?"

I maneuvered away from him, my face pale. "Sorry," I forced out shakily, "fresh out."

"Gary," the bartender said with slight warning in his tone, shaking his head, "I told you before not to be botherin' my customers."

I felt Gary's presence distance itself from me as said man glared slightly at the bartender. "Fine," he grumbled, walking off.

The bartender went back to wiping the glasses, leaving me to wallow in my distress solo. This wasn't how I wanted to spend my vacation. I was in New York– people came by the thousands to vacation in this area, I had heard– and, I really had no means to fend for myself. The last time I'd lived as a real muggle was before my Hogwarts era. It's been so long, I didn't think I could actually survive in this world.

This world? What world? I wasn't in the muggle world, not really. Here I was, sitting in a wizards' pub. They were obviously connected to the floo network. Maybe I could–

No, no I couldn't. I couldn't floo to Black Magic's destination, because I didn't know their destination. The Great Swine? Well, that definitely wasn't the right place. What had Jim said? Merlin, why didn't I pay attention?

"Care for a drink, sweetheart?" someone asked from behind.

My shoulders stiffened as I slowly turned my head to stare at the newcomer's face. Any hopes I had about the slurry voice belonging to a familiar face dashed quickly from this pub– as I wanted to do. Dirt was slathered around this man's face as though he fancied a muddy, facial exfoliation in the middle of the day, in the middle of a drunkard's dreamland. A slick smile directed from him to me proved that he did, indeed, have all of his teeth– yellow, they may be. He wore a cloak, tattered and slashed with holes, and, oddly, a blue bandana around his right eye.

"No, thanks," I said coolly, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone.

Not sensing my tone– or simply overlooking it– the man boldly sidled up next to me and took the stool to my right. I gripped my bag tighter, my knuckles turning white from the strain.

The bartender went back to his own business, obviously providing no submission to aiding me should I need it.

"You sure, bright eyes?" the man persisted, motioning to the bartender, who in turn nodded his head and supplied a stained glass of what appeared to be beer in front of the man. The man winked at me and continued, "Pretty thing like you shouldn't go thirsty."

I refrained from curling my lip and glaring at the man, settling for staying mute and staring down at my bag. I had to come up with a plan. Anything. I could call my father once more. That's it! My eyes brightened considerably as I quickly searched my pockets and bag for some loose change. Quickly, my mood darkened as I realized that I was totally without money.

Frowning, I narrowed my eyes. I could have sworn I had a little bit of muggle money with me. I was certain I had it in the airport. I knew I still had it on my way to that dusty shack with the band.

My face darkened more so. Without another word to the man next to me, I stood up and wrapped the strap of my bag around my shoulder, protectively. More glares were thrown at me as I made my way back to my initial entrance. I almost shuddered at the amount of ash and dust littering the fireplace– no doubt I, too, was now littered with that filth. Before I took another step, I looked down at poked and prodded at my sweater, searching for any and all stains I received. Yes, I was right. I counted nine considerable splotches of dirt on my once beautiful white top.

Going back to the task at hand, I discreetly began to search the fireplace for my lost money. I could almost feel the amount of glances I had been receiving intensify. One of them, I was sure, took my money as it became more and more obvious that my money was not around the fireplace. Great. Now, I was completely hopeless.

I almost ran out of the pub, knocking into a few shouting men. The world outside the dinky building wasn't much different than the inside. The same type of shady residences cluttered the obviously wizard streets. I saw a woman on a nearby corner selling smoky, murky liquids to a few men. Everyone seemed to be dressed in black, as opposed to my now off-white sweater. I knew I stuck out worse than I attracted attention in the Great Swine.

In my past, I paid many visits to Diagon Alley. All those times, I avoided, at all costs, Knockturn Alley. Bodderick Bode, the boy who had been assigned to show me around Diagon Alley the first time to get my school supplies, told me straight off that Knockturn Alley was not a place I wanted to be seen.

'Shifty blokes, they are, Lily. The type that would make your skin crawl, your spine shudder with terror,' Bodderick had told me when I asked, 'Don't want people to see you wandering down there. Terrible. I was down there once. Luckily, old Dumbledore showed up before anything too rotten could happen.'

Staring around silently, I knew, logically, that I wasn't in Knockturn Alley, but I most certainly felt like it. Was this how Bodderick had felt when he was down in Knockturn? Like everyone was staring at him. Waiting for an inevitable hand to reach out and pull him along, abduct him. And I could almost feel that offending hand grasp my arm. Just to be certain, my eyes had darted down to check. No hand. Just a lot of leers and glares.

Truly, no person in this population had a smile plastered on their face. You'd think they were all walking to their deaths.

Swallowing, I moved forward. Engulfed in the crowd was a little less stressful, as a matter of fact. At least not everyone was staring at me.

My thoughts were jumbled. As jumbled as the great multitude of people surrounding me. Part of my couldn't help but wonder what the band was doing. Were they worried? As quickly as the question came to me, I dismissed it. They were way too important to worry about some love-struck, crazed admirer. In fact, Remus had probably looked up the residence of my father and made sure the rest of my luggage was out of their concern. I felt it was my God-given right to let out a sad sigh at the thought.

The thought of not seeing any of them again. The thought of not seeing Jim, in particular, again. Jim, my airplane neighbor, my growing love interest. Never to be seen again. Well, it was my own fault, after all. I could have paid attention. Why didn't I pay attention?

Why couldn't I stop brooding over it?

Because, sad, pathetic, broke, teenage girls tend to brood over equally sad disappointments. It's their own God-given right. I let out another sad sigh– indulging in mine once more.

Suddenly, without warning, two magnified brown eyes took my line of vision. I stopped; people knocked into me. Rude murmurs were being thrown around as people inconveniently avoided me and the old lady in front of me. Before I could say a word, the silver-haired woman had her wrinkly hands on my bag.

"My bag," she hissed at me angrily, her eyes flashing, her lips tight. "You stole my bag, you little hooligan!"

A hooligan? I think that's the first time I've ever been called that.

"Your bag?" said I in astonishment, gripping my bag all the tighter. "I did no such thing!"

"You did, you did!" she screeched, "I saw you! Give me my bag back!"

We were starting to attract attention. I myself was mortified, for at that moment the crowd now surrounding us started to murmur that I should "give the old lady back her bag."
"It's not hers," I cried to them desperately, my eyes darting every which way to meet one unpleasant, unfriendly face after another. "It's mine. I didn't steal it from you. This is my bag!"

"I saw you take it!" she sneered evilly at me.

"You did no such thing, because I didn't take it!" I countered shakily. The crowd had started to chant in favor of the old lady.

"Give her the bag!" someone shouted at me. My nerves were shot. Tears stung my eyes. And, my arms hurt. The old woman was stronger than she looked.

"It's mine!" I screamed back. I probably looked crazy. My hair was flailing about my face now. I had lost my left sandal somewhere during our struggle. The lady, in her effort to gain a tighter, more secure grasp on my bag, pulled the sleeve of my sweater, ripping it. A nice long gash now accompanied the dirt stains and ashes.

"You little thief, don't you have anything better to do than to steal from an old lady?" a woman from the crowd shouted.

"I didn't, dammit!" I cried, pulling harder. The tears streaming down my face held locks of my red hair like glue, shielding most of my vision.

"Let's take a look inside the bag," a level-headed voice chimed in.

I breathed a sigh of relief, still struggling for my bag. Someone approached the two of us and made to reach for the bag. We both stiffened, gripping the leather tighter.

"Relax, ladies," the same calm voice spoke. I whipped my head around, trying to get the hair out of my eyes. The guy who had come up to us looked only a few years older than I. He seemed rather familiar, but I couldn't place a name with the face.

Carefully, so as not to set either one of us off, the guy opened the bag. I saw, from the corner of my eye, the old lady tense, and I fought the urge to smirk triumphantly. So much for trying to steal from me.

"You read teenage-targeted magazines?" the guy asked, amusement lacing his tone as he addressed the older lady. She looked flustered only for a moment before her eyes hardened once more.

"It's for my granddaughter," she answered defiantly.

"Ah," he replied, never losing his confident smile. Going back to the bag, he ruffled around. I felt my cheeks burn as he brought out the photographs I had taken along. They were, to say the least, quite embarrassing photos. "And, I suppose this is also your granddaughter dancing around in duckie pajamas, singing into a hairbrush. . .this hairbrush, to be exact." He pulled out my green brush.

With one hand still protectively grasping my bag, I snatched the offending photos away from before anyone else could see me singing Black Magic's, I'm Lost in Your Magic, in my not-exactly-modest pajamas. "It was a dare," I murmured to him, humiliated.

As mortifying as the experience was, it certainly made the woman and the crowd get off my back. Without even a note of apology in my direction, the older woman glared at me, then at the guy, before finally loosening her grip completely and stalking off– probably to find another poor soul to steal from. The crowd dispersed, only a select few giving me apologetic glances.

The guy and I were finally left alone. I, still clutching the leather bag to my chest frantically, glanced up at him, sniffling occasionally as the tears stopped.

"Thanks," I said, looking up at him once more.

"Don't worry about it," he said, smiling reassuringly at me. He looked really familiar.

"No really," I insisted, "This bag. . .well, it's. . .I don't know what I would have done if I lost it," I admitted, still stressed.

"Lily, don't worry about it, really," the guy said calmly.

I blinked, "Do I know you?" I asked, still racking my brain for a name.

He laughed, "I should think so. . ." he took one of the pictures from my hand and tapped at it, "My wife framed a copy of this picture in our living room, after all." I glanced at the picture. It was taken in my sixth year. The head girl, Gretchen Ambroseia, a Gryffindor like myself, had gotten all of the Gryffindors girls together for a picture one sunny day in April. There I was, third row. My nose was green due to a misfortunate event in the Great Hall the week before it was taken. Darren Klimas grew two heads once a first year informed me of my green nose. The jerk had terrible aim and had been trying to hit Maria Fwentine four seats away.

"Your wife?" I murmured, still staring at the picture. Finally, as my eyes traveled across Alice Glaze, a seventh year at the time. "Frank Longbottom!" I exclaimed, probably surprising him by unexpectedly throwing my arms around him, embracing him tightly. I'd met him on only a few occasions, when he would stop by Hogwarts to visit Alice. But, they became dear to me after only a few conversations. The Longbottoms had invited me to their wedding, but scheduling conflicts arose in the form of my sister's godforsaken engagement party. I'd never forget that day- I arrived wearing the same dress as Petunia. It was terrible.

Frank laughed loudly, "It's good to see you too, Lily Evans. Haven't seen your face for a long while. Alright?"

I nodded, "Yes, I'm alright. You have no idea how great it is to see you."

"I can guess," he said, pulling back, "Actually, I've been looking for about. . ." he took a glance up at the sun, "I'd say three hours around this place. Searching high and low. Sirius said you might be around here somewhere."
"Sirius sent you?" I exclaimed, my relief intensifying. At least now I knew they were doing something about this.

"'Course he did. Well, they all did. Told me the whole story, the lot of them did." Frank shook his head, "I told them that didn't sound like the Lily Evans I knew. . .making a silly mistake like that and all."

"I got distracted," I feebly defended myself, a faint blush creeping up on my face.

Frank playing nudged my shoulder as we started walking through the crowd. "Like I said, that didn't sound like you at all. Tut, tut, Lily, scaring them like that. Jim was frantic, Remus was shouting at Sirius, James. . .well, he was the one to come and get me. Peter, that poor guy, was practically in tears. Poor bloke is fragile, you know," Frank pulled me along.

I forced a strained laugh. Never in my life had I endured so much stress in such a short amount of time.

"Going to be alright?" Frank said, looking slightly concerned as he finally noticed the remains of my tears.

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine," I said, securing the bag over my shoulder once more, "I'm just. . .I never. . .first I meet Black Magic, then I loose my luggage, my money. I show up in a beat up, old pub with very mean people glaring at me. And an old lady tries to steal from me." I ran a hand through my hair, "I'm just really stressed." I looked down, pouting slightly, "And, I need to buy a new pair of sandals."

"You'll get a chance to change clothes once we arrive," Frank squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, his eyes narrowed in concern. "We'll be at The Grape Vine shortly, don't worry."

"The Grape Vine!" I exclaimed, "That was it," I snapped my fingers before placing a weary hand on my forehead in exasperation. "I stun myself, sometimes," I went on, rolling my eyes.

Frank smiled again, "Well, anyway, we'll be there soon."

He led me into a candy shop, pulling me along through the crowds and to the back of the store. Opening the back door, Frank led me through into a small, dank room with no windows, color, or anything of cheer. The only thing in the room was a fireplace and a small, cream urn next to it on the floor.

"How do you feel about flooing just once more?" he asked, turning towards me.

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter and looked at the fireplace wordlessly. For a moment, I considered all my options. Finally, I turned back to Frank and forced a smile.

His grin widened as he pushed my forward, "Thatta girl!"

A/N: Hey all, sorry for the long awaited update. Don't hurt me if you see some grammatical errors. As always, I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I could.