Catching up with the O&M class was a little more challenging than Harry anticipated. They weren't just out and about in the little village surrounding the rec center.

"Harry, we're fairly certain that you'll be safe traveling in muggle London with the group, but we are going to recommend a disguise just in case… especially since that Daily Prophet article just came out. Healer Jordan said that there was one you used before that you liked."

"Oh, yes. Haripreet Batra… he's a friend of Hermione's from New Delhi. Though Healer Jordan thought it wasn't safe to use that disguise again because she thought that the reporter noticing me using it at St. Mungo's."

"She's got that situation in hand, so she said you could use it again if you want. She said that you have a back story and all—that makes it easier."

"Oh, sure. That's fine."

After she transfigured Harry's appearance, Besel led Harry to the apparition point a couple of blocks away and they traveled by side-along apparition to a hidden spot underneath the Waterloo bridge to meet up with the group as they walked along the Thames.

"You okay, Harry?" Besel asked.

"Ugh. This always happens," Harry said as he crouched over the bucket, and then rinsed his mouth with a small stream of water from his wand. He spit the water in the bucket and then vanished his sick and pushed the bucket back into his staff. "I hate apparition. The funny thing is that I was fine on the galleon in the middle of a storm. You'd think that would be worse."

"How was traveling through the painting?" Besel asked.

"Not quite so bad. I didn't spew. Isn't it the same process?"

"Similar, but I think apparition takes more of a toll on your body."

Harry's thoughts went to Tony and his splinched arms.

They were quiet for a moment in the cool shade listening to the ferries and other boats going by on the Thames, a nearby family of chortling ducks, and the whistle of swallows swooping below the bridge. The cars and lorries speeding overhead on the Waterloo bridge rattled through his bones and the dank mustiness of the river invaded his nostrils and coated his tongue.

"All right now? Why don't you unbuckle your wand and holder and store them in your staff. Is there anything you'd like to take out of your staff? No magical tools, of course. Why don't you get those now? Here's your muggle cane. From this point on, you're a muggle and using non-magical tools to navigate. Don't worry—this apparition spot has muggle repelling charms, so we're not going to be noticed down here."

Harry put away his wand and retrieved his book bag, a bottle of water, some muggle money, and a handkerchief from this staff and then held his staff out to Besel. He stuffed everything into his book bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Here you go," she said as she pressed the muggle cane into his hand. It was lightweight and flexible—bowing when he leaned against it. The handle was more narrow than his staff and the strap grazed his fingers. He missed the weight and texture of his staff.

"Wait—don't put your hand through the strap. That could be a danger if you got caught on something like a moving car… you could be pulled along. The strap is used to keep the cane together when it is folded. This one folds by pulling apart the sections—they are held together by an elastic cord threaded through the center. Yes—you should practice folding it. It has a red band at the bottom and is otherwise white. If you drop this one (and you can expect to) you can't summon it back—so you'll need to listen carefully to hear where it drops. Try not to panic when it happens."

"When?" Harry laughed.

"Not really a matter of if," Besel responded.

Harry tapped the tip against the cobblestones on the path they were standing on, still in the cool shade of the bridge. The tinny noise of the aluminum tip bounced off the underneath of the bridge giving him a sense of the space, though it wasn't as clear or precise as his silver tip.

"I'm also going to practice using a muggle wheelchair today," Besel explained and the noises she was making made more sense. "Stand back a step or two, Harry, I need to expand this chair on a more level surface." She must have stored a miniature wheelchair in the extendable compartment of her chair because he heard the wheels and metal of the chair bounce and clanged into existence. Harry took another step backward as the chair banged against his knees.

"Do you need me to hold this chair?"

"Yes, thank you. And could you put the lock on the wheel by your left knee? I can't quite reach it."

Harry followed the curve of the wheel with his fingers until he located a small metal lever. He moved it back and forth until he figured out how to lock the wheel in place. Then he found short handles on the back of the chair and held it steady as Besel transferred to the muggle wheelchair.

"Thank you, Haripreet." There was a small pop as she minimized her levitating chair and he heard her rustling around in a bag, presumably storing the chair.

"Why do we need to use muggle stuff? I thought that your chair and my staff were designed to look like the muggle ones so that when we're among muggles so they can't tell we're using magic."

"Yes, that's true. And it is also good to know how to get around if for some reason you can't use magic and you need to be around muggles," Besel said as she was bent over, her voice projected to the ground. Harry wondered what part of the wheel she was adjusting, it sounded like she was moving pie tins around.

"If you're so dependent on magic and you find yourself in a situation where you can't use your staff or magic, if you haven't practiced with non-magical tools you could be in a real bind—more than the average wix. We want to prepare you for as many possible situations as we can while you're with us."

The only scenario that Harry could imagine was one where the Dursleys took his staff and locked it away with all his other magical objects… but he imagined that then he'd just be stuck at Privet drive doing endless chores and not touring muggle London. He sighed and ground his teeth.

"All right, shall we go?" As Besel moved toward the sounds of the street, Harry found that he was squeezing the cane, holding it off the ground to get a description of the area.

"Right, no descriptions," he groaned to himself and swung his cane ahead of him to follow her out into the sunshine, slipping on the smooth rocks and uneven walkway. It was a lot easier to follow the sound of the muggle wheelchair as it ground over the sand on the path.

Harry stopped short when his cane tinged against Besel's chair.

"Harry… I mean Haripreet. Oi. I have to remember!" Besel said. "There's our group. Follow me."

Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his denims and then hurried to keep up with Besel who was now gliding more soundlessly on the pavement. His book back thudded against his hip as he walked. Ahead he could hear Godric giving directions to the others in the group and their canes tapping on the pavement.

"Godric!" Besel called out. "Hari-preet and I are here."

"You found him! Good, good," Godric responded.

Harry started to mutter the revealing charm and then remembered it wouldn't work with the muggle cane. He was trying to figure out who was with Godric when he heard light footsteps pattering toward him and the familiar tug of Gemma's hand on his wrist as she slid her hand under his to greet him.

"Gemma! I didn't know you'd be with us today!" Harry exclaimed. "Oh, I don't have my charmed papers! You can't understand me."

Gemma made the laughing sign under his hands as he attempted to sign his dismay and then tugged at his curlier than usual hair.

"Oh, yeah. My disguise."

"It's okay, Harry. I'm here to interpret for Gemma and Peter," a familiar voice said.

Harry wrinkled his brow as he tried to place the voice.

"Pardon me, I'm Gauis Luxor. We met before when I was interpreting for Peter."

"Oh, right. Thank you," Harry said. "Is Peter near?"

"Yes, he's right here," Gauis said and guided Harry's offered hand to Peter's. They greeted each other and then Harry found Gemma's hand again.

"Okay, group, we're going to continue along the pavement for a bit. Stay together as a group and keep to the left. It's especially crowded near the Theater," Godric instructed.

"The Theater?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Oh, Haripreet, I forgot to tell you. We're going on a tour of the National Theater," Besel said over her shoulder. "We're going to try out their accessible programs, including a tactile tour before a production."

"A tactile tour? What does that mean?"

"Well, I think it means that you, Aminah, Fitz, and Peter can touch things on the set before the production begins to get a sense of it, but we'll find out for sure in just a little bit. We're not far from… "

The bellow of a barge boat close by on the river and amplified under the bridge blasted the rest of Besel's sentence away and for a moment Harry lost his bearings as the sound washed out everything around him. Even his feet on the pavement felt insubstantial in the reverberations of the horn.

Gemma grabbed his arm as he bent over to hold his ears. She was trying to sign something frantically into his hands, but he was trying to hold his hands over his ears. He finally the blast stopped and he could hold his hands over hers to figure out what she was saying.

"I heard that! I heard that! What was it?"

Harry straightened and turned his face toward her and spoke deliberately, "it was a barge horn." He repeated it a few times and then she fingerspelled "barge" on his hand and he nodded.

"You heard it?" he asked slowly.

Her "yes" was insistent and emphatic.

"Peter? Did he hear it, too?"

"Oi. That was loud. Come on, group. We need to keep moving. We've got an appointment to keep," Godric reminded them.

Gemma tapped a hasty "yes" on his arm and then they picked up their pace to keep up with the group. If it was hard to talk to Gemma while walking with their magical tools, it was even harder to talk without them. Godric had made it clear in earlier lessons that when they were working on their orientation and mobility that they were expected to walk independently—so there was no chance of tactile whispering back and forth.

Harry had to really concentrate on not running into the people around him and to stay to the left of the pavement. He finally found the edge of the pavement that was bordered by a wall and followed it. Most of the time that worked, except a couple of times when people were sitting on the wall and he stumbled around them. Groups of people hurried around their slow-moving group and sometimes their conversation stopped abruptly. Harry, fully aware that it meant that they were being stared at, was only just able to hold his irritation in check by grasping it firmly between his teeth and clamping down.

"Okay, we're going turn in about ten feet and head toward the museum—it is all foot traffic, but there are hoards of people. There are four terrace-like steps going down to the street level that are about ten feet between each step, then we'll cross the pavement to the entrance of the museum where they are holding our tickets. Stay close and hustle… we're cutting it close."

Harry held his cane in a more upright position so that he could walk more closely behind Gemma without hitting her feet with his staff too much. He was sweating a lot and was glad of the cool breeze even as it carried the feral odor of the Thames. It lifted the curls at the back of his head.

"Harry, can I go ahead of you? I need to ask Godric something," Besel asked.

"Sure, no problem," Harry said stepping to the side and pausing. He was going to follow the sound of Besel's wheels and struck out with his cane, but it caught on something and sprung out of his hand. He heard it clatter to the ground not too far to his left, but when he bent to grab it he realized that he was being surrounded by a large group of people (teens, maybe?) who were talking animatedly over the voice of a frustrated man who seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to herd them. They seemed oblivious that Harry was in their midst as they jostled him.

"My cane! I dropped my cane," Harry shouted in alarm, but they didn't stop. They just moved around him scrumming him with book bags and elbows and pushing him back.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" a growly voice exclaimed.

"Hey, I dropped my cane! Do you see it? Can you hand it to me? Please?"

"Hey! Are you blind!" a squeaky voice asked.

Harry felt the air moving in front of his face and pushed it away.

"You're not really blind? Or are you like that Daredevil dude? Heightened senses and all?"

"What?" Harry exclaimed, confused. "Yes, I am blind. Daredevil? What? Hey, do you see a white stick on the ground? It has a red band on one end."

"Yeah, Paki—right this way," said the same gruff-voiced person from earlier while grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him toward the river.

"No, let go! Don't call me that! It's over there. I heard it fall over there." Harry pointed and dug in his heels, trying to yank his hand back. "Stop pulling me!"

"Oi, Frank. Didn't you hear him? He said, let go!" another student interjected, prying Frank's fingers off of Harry's arm and stepping in between Frank and Harry. He was a bit taller than Harry and was wearing a spicy cologne. "I'm sorry about that. Where did you say you were trying to go?"

"I'm trying to find my cane and then I need to find my group. They were headed toward the entrance to the Theater."

"Oh, yeah. I see it. Just a sec… no wait, better come with me," the boy said. "Uh, how… uh… should I hold your arm?"

"Actually, I'll hold your elbow… and thanks for asking," Harry said, grasping the boy's arm.

"Har! Look at those Paki poofs!" Frank guffawed behind them. "Where you taking your blind boyfriend, Binu? Off for a nice shag?"

"Sod off, you lump of lard!" Binu called out forcefully over his shoulder.

He turned to Harry saying, "Sorry about him. He's as dense as wet sand."

Binu threaded through the crowd of students a few paces and then bent down. Harry heard the aluminum of the cane scraping on the ground.

"Here you go… oh, no. Is it broken?" Binu asked.

Harry's throat closed at the thought and he reached for it. He ran his hands over the length and found that one of the segments had been pulled out and he popped it back into place.

"No, it's okay. Thank you!" he said, relief escaping in a throaty breath.

"Oi, that's cool. Hey, I think I see your people. Looks like they are looking for you… well, the ones who can see, that is," and the boy laughed nervously.

"Yeah, that's my group," Harry said. "Do you mind pointing me in the right direction?"

"I can take you over there."

Harry held his cane in front of him and stuck his elbow out a little with the hope of creating a bit more space for him to pass through. Occasionally he bumped against people as they passed. They had made their way through the milling students and were now dodging pedestrians who were walking with purpose perpendicular to their path.

Harry had a split second notice when Binu's arm lurched down and his cane left the air, then his foot was hanging in space with nothing solid underneath it before he fell forward and found the next level of the terraced steps jarringly with his foot and cane. He swung his cane wildly as he tried to regain his balance and pulled heavily on Binu's arm.

"Oi!"

"Oh, mate! I should have told you about the step. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think," Binu apologized and Harry could almost feel the heat of his embarrassment.

"At least it was a short one," Harry said as he regained his composure.

"What do I do when we get to the next one?" Binu asked as they walked across the bricks.

"Slow down or stop at the top of the step and tell me that we're going to step down (or up) and then tell me how many steps there are," Harry explained.

Binu explained carefully and they made their way down the three remaining terraced steps.

"Thanks!" Harry said gratefully as the pavement leveled out and they turned toward a bank of tall buildings that Harry knew were there by the way the sound and wind bounced off of them.

"No worries. We look out for our fam, you know," Binu asked. "Here come some of your people. You all right now?"

"Yeah, thanks again."

"No prob—hold on. Who is she?" Binu whispered, turning toward Harry.

"Um?" Harry asked, drawing his brows together.

"Oh right. Uh, let's see. She's also got a stick like you—that means she's blind, right? But she's not wearing dark glasses. Dark caramel skin, ebony hair, and wow—her eyes. She really can't see? She's dreamy. Probably Pakistani, you know?"

"Oh, that's Aminah."

"Introduce me? Would you?"

"Um. I think we're in a hurry to get our tickets."

"You're going to the Theater now? Really?"

"Yes—Oh, Gemma. This is Binu," Harry fingerspelled Binu's name into Gemma's hand. He hadn't heard her approach with all the people walking around them. Her greeting was a bombardment of questions, half of which he didn't get. He tried to make a reassuring motion under her hands in response.

"Uh, hi, Gemma. Nice to meet you," Binu said as they were engulfed by the group.

"Haripreet! There you are. We were worried," Besel said. "You were with us one moment and then nowhere. How did you get separated?"

"I dropped my cane and then…"

"I'm afraid it was our theater group… Haripreet didn't go anywhere, we just overtook him."

"Well, thank you for your help."

"All right, let's go it. We don't want to miss our tour," Godric said, his cane tapping toward the building.

"Harry, I was so worried about you," Aminah said as they followed Godric.

"I wasn't gone that long," Harry said and Binu nudged him with the arm that Harry was still holding. "Uh, Aminah, this is Binu. He helped me out."

"Oh! Binu, thank you so much for what you did!" Aminah said.

"Not at all. I was happy to help. Um, I know this is very forward, but could I give you my number?" Binu asked in a rush, his arm dropping as he reached for his book bag.

"Number of what?" Aminah asked.

"Er, his telephone number, he wants you to ring him, Aminah," Harry said.

Aminah was quiet for a moment and it sounded like Binu was holding his breath. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes—he wasn't sure if Aminah was pausing because she was trying to figure out the muggle technology or what?

"Oh, why do you want to do that?"

"Come on now, let's go in," Godric continued to hurry them along.

"Er, nevermind. It was very forward of me. I apologize," Binu said as he pulled his arm away from Harry.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just… uh. I'm not very good at this," Aminah said sounding flustered. "I just don't know you… and there's a lot going on."

"Well, I would like to get to know you better," Binu said and Harry heard pen scratching on paper.

"But why?"

"You… really don't know why?" Binu asked, perplexed.

"Uh. No."

"Here Harry. Will you… It was nice to meet you," Binu said shoving a bit of paper into Harry's hand and then he was gone.

"Huh. Well, that was a surprise," Aminah said.

"Yeah. He gave me the phone number. Do you want it?" Harry asked, reaching out for Aminah.

"What am I going to do with this?" Aminah said. "I don't even know how to ring anyone. And he's a muggle… right? Ugh. I just don't know what to do with this right now."

Harry could hear her tucking the paper into a pocket as they passed through a door and into a dark space that smelled of bustle and anticipation. There were a lot of people milling around, speaking in hushed tones. The noises echoed up high hitting a ceiling and then bouncing back down in a continuous loop of echoes.

Their small group had gathered against a wall while Godric collected the tickets for the tactile tour. Before the noise of his cane tapped across the hall, Godric had explained that they'd go through the box office line to purchase tickets for the production after the tour to practice using muggle currency and navigating a line of people.

Harry had a flash of memory… standing in the early morning chill at the Little Whinging station trying to figure out the line to the ticket booth. It seemed like a life-time ago.

Then Godric was back with a gentleman with a booming, congenial voice who was there to lead them to their tour and they were walking through the hallways. Harry's cane rattled against the brick pathway, catching on the seams between the tiles. He held it tightly, least it jump out of his grasp again.

They entered a space that was less echoey, but still large. By the way his peers were crowded around him and he was pressed up against the back of Besel's chair, Harry gathered that the space was filled with furniture or something that was preventing them from moving forward into the room and that there was something muffling the sounds… a curtain or a thin wall. He could hear the telltale sounds of other people—some close by, some farther away talking and moving things around in a large echoey space. It smelled as if someone had recently mopped with acrid chemicals and a sour mop.

"Come on in, there's plenty of room if you step out onto the stage," their guide invited. "I'm your host, Tom Wilkinson, and I play King Lear. We'll be pairing each of you with a cast member who will take you around the set of today's production so that you can get a sense of the set and the props before the play."

The group eased up and Harry stood listening as his peers each met their personal guides to the set.

"Greetings, I'm Andy Serkis, and I play The Fool. I'll be your guide through our tactile tour," a man with a deep voice spoke near him. There was a rustling of heavy skirts as well.

Harry turned to the voice, "Excuse me, are you speaking to me?" he asked.

"Yes, I apologize that I wasn't clear," Andy said, touching Harry's elbow. "May I walk you around the stage so that you can get a sense of the space?"

"Sure," Harry said. "Did you say your name is Andy Circus?"

"Ah… Serkis, with a K."

"Oh, right," Harry said as he reached out his hand to find Andy's elbow which was encased in a tight silk sleeve. He was surprised to find that the skirts he had heard were attached to Andy… they brushed up against his legs.

"Oh, are you wearing a dress?" Harry asked before it dawned on him that it might be impolite to ask.

"How very observant of you. Indeed, I am. I am a man dressed as a Victorian woman in full black crinoline, corset and all, and with a heavy wig pulled into a bun. This is my role… the Fool in King Lear's court."

Harry wondered what Mei would think of a man dressed as a woman and playing a Fool. Andy took Harry's hand and pulled it up to graze softly over the wig. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

Maybe Mei would find it funny, too? Or maybe they would ask some pointed questions?

"Exactly! It is a hilarious wig. It would be even funnier if it weren't quite so heavy nor infernally itchy. Now, let me set the scene for you. The set is stark and the drama is defined by the dark curtains that create a sense of forboding with their oppressive weight. They smother us as they suck the life out of this space. Over here, we have a bench where much of the action takes place, and here is a suitcase that I will carry around, thumping it about dramatically like so… " At each mention of a prop, Andy stopped and let Harry feel the texture of the bench or the suitcase and get a sense of the size of it. He could hear his classmates around him getting similar tours. Peter's laugh carried through the space and bounced off the distant walls.

By the end of it, Harry had felt the fabric of the costumes—the stiff lace, broaches, velvety breeches, well-oiled boots, and a myriad of props, including a riding-whip, a vase stuffed with white roses, glass tumblers (he was informed that they contained colored water), and a feathered duster that made him sneeze.

Andy had jumped up onto a ledge while Harry held his hand to give him a feeling of some of the action and explained the main themes of the story. He was surprisingly agile in his crinoline skirts.

Harry was embarrassed that he wasn't familiar with the play, even though he had heard of others by Shakespeare. As he overheard an awkward exchange that Fitz was having with his guide, Harry realized that he, at least, was familiar with Shakespeare and had a sense of muggle history. His wixen friends who had never mingled with muggles were worse off than he was.

As they made their way back out to the gallery to buy their tickets, Harry listened patiently to Fitz who was very confused about why a play that was written in the 1600s was being set in Victorian England, some three hundred years later. He tried to explain, in a quiet voice, how much muggle technology had changed in those three hundred years, but it was hard for Fitz to understand as wixen technologies hadn't evolved nearly as much in the same time frame. Harry realized that, in fact, the wixen world had a lot more in common with Shakespeare's time than the current age.

Godric handed out envelopes to each of the students containing their allotted muggle money, and then they found their way to stand in line to buy their tickets. Harry's experience at the window went pretty smoothly. He was familiar enough with muggle money to manage—even though he hadn't spent much time trying to feel the differences between the different coins and bills and had to ask the clerk for verification that he'd handed over the correct bills. In the end, he had his ticket in hand and he was done.

They found their seats, Gemma was on one side of him, and Peter was next to her, with Gaius on Peter's other side. Aminah sat on Harry's other side. Godric explained that there would be a sign language interpreter standing in a spotlight to the side of the stage that Gemma could watch (along with others in the audience who spoke BSL). Harry wondered how she'd be able to follow the action as well as listen to the dialog. It seemed as if she'd have to follow either one or the other and that it would be nearly impossible to follow both simultaneously. He wondered how all the archaic language would be communicated as well. All the thees and thous and how nows.

He was turning to her to ask when Aminah asked in a quiet whisper, "Harry, what did else did Binu say to you?"

"Huh? Uh, oh. Well, not much really. He thought you were pretty and he wanted me to introduce him to you."

"But what did he say?"

"That was pretty much it. I mean, he stopped that bully from leading me toward the river instead of the Theater, found my cane, and then we walked over to where you all were waiting for me."

"He stopped a bully? He saved you from being thrown in the river?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that… I mean he pried the bloke's fingers off my arm, but I don't think… "

"You were being assaulted?"

"Well, not exactly," Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "He just grabbed me and was pulling me…"

"Binu saved you…"

"I mean, I was glad he stepped in… especially because I didn't have my cane, let alone my staff or wand… Saving me is going a bit far… "

A bell rang that indicated the show was going to start soon. Harry knew from Andy's explanation that there would be visual cues as well—the house lights would go off and on… but they weren't bright enough for Harry to notice them. He could see a bright light, though. It was piercing and he just closed his eyes against it. He imagined that it must be the light that the sign language interpreter stood under.

He ran his fingers of the crushed velvet of the seat, feeling where the fabric had been worn down by generations of theatergoers. The floor felt a little tacky under his feet and his stomach grumbled in response. He pressed a hand to his rumbling belly and let out a low laugh. He listened as people filled the seats around them, sometimes making the row of seats shutter and rock and the floor tremble under his feet. Harry tried to make himself small as a couple came along their aisle to get to seats on the other side of their group. They stepped on his feet and apologized profusely. They did the same thing to Peter a couple of seats down. Gauis was responding to them.

Harry wondered what the experience was like for Peter… to only have the vibrations of the theater and the aromas of all these people packed into a tight space… though Peter had seemed pretty thrilled with the tactile tour. He'd told Harry that he'd read the play.

But the theater hushed and Harry gathered that something was happening on stage. And then there was a clattering and a bold deep voice erupted from the stage, "I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall."

Harry sat back, listening intently, trying to follow the story.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Gemma bounced in her seat next to Harry as the second Act came to a close and it was time for an intermission. She had signed some of the action into his cupped hands while they watched. He was amazed that she was able to do that and follow the play. Harry tried to pass some of it along to Aminah, but he kept getting caught up in the action and forgetting and Aminah finally admitted that she wasn't really able to follow the signs anyway.

They stood up and made their way to the lobby in a surge of people that pressed against him. As soon as he stood up, Harry realized that he had an urgent need to find the toilet. He whispered "Navigant toilet" before he remembered that he didn't have his staff.

How do I find the loo?

He asked Aminah but didn't get an answer and then realized that he had lost his friends in the crowd.

He moved forward and heard someone yelp as he struck their feet with his cane.

"Pardon me, could you tell me where the toilet is?" Harry asked the yelper.

"Oi! Watch it. Oh, sorry, mate. Uh, yeah. It's just over there."

"Um. Straight ahead? To the left?" Harry asked.

"Oh, right. Uh, it's about thirty feet directly ahead of you and then down a corridor to the right."

"Thank you," Harry said and he started walking in as straight a line as he could manage, but kept getting bounced off people who were milling around.

"Harry, Harry!" a voice called out over the general hubbub in the lobby.

Harry turned toward the voice.

"Besel?"

"Harry!" She sounded a little closer and he walked a few paces in her direction and felt an elbow catch him in the sternum. "Oomph."

"Harry, we've got to return to the Center right away!" Besel said, breathlessly.

"Haripreet! But the play… it's only halfway done… and I really need to find a … "

"Oh, right! Something's happened. Everyone's going back. We're going to…" she stopped herself mid-sentence.

"What's happened? Is it Aminah's father? Is she okay?"

"I'll explain later. Right now we need to go!" she grabbed his hand and thrust something into his hand. He realized it was his collapsed staff.

"What do I do with this one?" he asked, holding up his muggle cane.

"Uh. Blimey. We're surrounded by mug… "

"Uh, yeah."

"Here, put your staff in your pocket and push my wheelchair straight ahead. I'll hold your cane. We need to get out of here and to the apparition point. The others are there. I don't know how we keep losing you." She took the cane and guided his hand to the back of her chair. It was a lot easier getting through the crowd with Besel. He suspected that she was nudging people aside with his cane.

"To the left, that's right, okay now a bit to the right. Straight ahead," Besel directed and then they were outside and the sun was not only cutting into his head, but it was hot.

"Wow. I forgot it was midday," Harry said as he squeezed his eyes against the sun.

"Godric! I found him. Do we have everybody?" Besel called out.

"Yes, this way."

Harry followed the sound of Godric's staff, still pushing Besel who was still in a muggle wheelchair… Godric wasn't using the muggle cane anymore and it was a lot easier to hear the staff as it struck the pavement.

The walk back to the apparition point seemed shorter than when they arrived.

"Take Harry first, Besel. We'll follow," Godric said and Harry gasped as Besel grasped his arm and twisted, pushing her chair against her knees and pulling him through the ether.

His question, "Shouldn't Aminah go first," was lost as the vibrations of the bridge and the smell of the Thames fell away.