AN: And so the story moves forward. Key concepts: slow building and drabble .. ish.
By the way, ever managed to pull up the prohibit sign on a mac. Not fun, nope, not fun.
Sip, savor, swallow, bite, chew – ponder. That was a good word for it. Harriet was pondering.
She was back to the original question: Where was she? The area she was in was still mostly unoccupied. The overcast sky may very well have played a role in that. Still, the place wasn't entirely deserted. She could see some kind of central square off in the distance, filled with what appeared to be more uniformed persons.
A few of the passersby on their way to the more populated area were looking at her funny. Some were even staring. Not that she was worried. In fact, she barely noticed the small group leaving the building in front of her or their general lack of concern for others around them. The part of her brain that was mentally cataloguing her surroundings wondered if this was related to her lack of uniform. Maybe she should get one? From where? Which color? The red seemed more prevalent of the lot…
Mentally, she shook her head. She had more important things to consider, to ponder.
'Right then, recon first, shelter second, then food.'
The priority lay with learning more about how dangerous her new environment was and how to blend in. She was in a city, cities had markets, markets meant ready food sources, ready food sources meant less foraging, less starving (painful much?), lower chance of getting eaten by the locals. Ditto on shelter; it could easily be found or made, given all the resources at her fingertips.
Then there was the possibility of this being a plausible future for her to consider/ ponder. Was it a magical society? If so, would her magic work? If not, how would it impact her magical core or her ability to access it? Prior attempts down this path in other places had led to various results. Her magic had changed after that first little skip through what she assumed was time and space. She really didn't even need a wand so much anymore as intent and control and a good sense of morality and curiosity. On the first two, she just didn't know what she could do anymore until she tried. On the last two, well, let's just say a few tough lessons had been learned.
'There are plenty of colors between white and black, why stick with one or the other?'
Focus. Cautiously, she searched out her core. Good, it was present and shining with an intensity that had long been missing. She would probably be able to do more in this existence than she had in the last few.
'Hopefully I can find that list I made on things to try out a while back.' Not that she wouldn't be trying EVERYTHING out (AGAIN!) for safety's sake. 'Merlin, this is getting old.'
Harriet felt like pouting. Maybe she would. Either way, she let her magical senses expand into the environment around her. The unique charge she had since come to associate with the British magical community of her youth was absent.
'Huh. All non-magicals then?'
This was big and it could very well cause problems. She had no reason to put much stock into secrecy laws per se but no one liked being turned into a science experiment. She mentally tagged the issue for further consideration after a deeper investigation into her new surroundings.
She was almost fully functioning now. Almost. Enough to register how close the group of youngsters had gotten when she considered pushing her senses further out. She quirked another eyebrow.
'Youngsters? Really? Merlin, I'm getting old.'
And she was. Not that anyone could tell by looking at her. Or would dare tell her as much to her face. At 5'4, Harriet was nowhere near the leggy beauty guys tended to idolize or dream of. She looked to be somewhere in her twenties, lean, not entirely fashionable. Exercise and time in the sun had tanned her skin and given her otherwise thin frame a discreet layer of muscle she hadn't had when she was younger. Her unruly jet black curls were pulled and pinned back haphazardly into a sloppy bun, nostalgically held in place by her more or less useless wand. One of her wands at any rate.
One of the youth, wearing a uniform that seemed similar to the stranger from earlier (she'd been too dazed to note any details), laughed loudly, not paying attention to his general surroundings. If he had been, he may have seen her. As it was, he nearly kicked her in the face when his excitement drove him to become more animated. He lost his balance. "AH!" Then he fell.
Harriet had enough time to mentally scoff.
'Was he skipping? That looked awfully like he was trying to sideways skip.'
She reflexively twisted out of the way, narrowly missing the offending appendage and the male's less than graceful fall. On the way down, he bumped his female companion, causing her to drop her books, just as his own possessions began to fly from his hands and a few from his pockets.
Slowly, her look of mild amusement (who trips over themself that hard?) transformed into one of absolute horror.
"You…" Her voice was low, disbelief lacing every word. " No…" Forget pouting - Harriet looked like she was about to cry. 'Why is it always me…'
There, lying on the ground, crushed beneath the weight of … 'that punk!' ... was what was left of her coffee. Lady Harriet Jamie Potter, former savior of the wizarding world, vanquisher of the darkest, most feared wizard of an age, was reduced to stammering over spilled coffee.
Needless to say, the twitch was back.
