"I'll take two."

The old man stared at me as though he hadn't heard what I'd said.

He'd just led me through a whole involved process of trying out different wands, and I had to admit that there was a certain thrill when I felt... something moving through me with this one. I still didn't even know what these were for, but the bartender had said I'd need one to get back here, and so here I was.

The fact that every person on the street carried one suggested that it was more than just a key. At eight galleons it was cheap even if that was all it was. I certainly wasn't going to let a possible tool go to waste.

"The wand chooses the wielder," he said again. "You can't simply..."

"Take two?" I asked. "Why not?"

"Wands develop an affinity for their owner. As you grow in your powers, the wand grows with you. Switching wands on a whim would stunt that growth."

"And when mine gets broken?"

"Broken?"

"I'm a child. Things get broken. Even if it's not me doing the breaking..."

Memories of my mother's flute flashed though my mind. I'd been stupid, taking it to school when I was being bullied, but I'd never expected them to defile it the way they had.

Living out in the open the way I did, there were no guarantees. I could be mugged, attacked by dogs, or simply be unlucky and trip, and the wand would snap like the piece of wood that it was.

Ollivander looked shocked. "A witch does not break her wand."

"I believe in being prepared," I said. "So I'd like a spare. I won't use it unless something happens to my main wand."

He looked at me darkly, then sighed. "Paranoid, I'd call you, but the way things are going for muggleborns these days perhaps you aren't being foolish."

"Oh?" I asked him.

"I haven't seen as many muggleborns heading for Hogwarts this year as usual," he said. "And it makes me question why. There are whispers that you-know-who is back."

"Who?"

"I shouldn't say anything," he said hurriedly. He looked toward the front of the shop, as though he expected someone there to be listening. I knew there wasn't, because I had bugs on the front and back entrances watching. I could hardly tell him that, of course.

"If it's dangerous, that's all the more reason you should tell me," I said. "otherwise, how will I defend myself?"

He hesitated, then said,"There are ugly aspects to our society that people don't like to talk about. There are people who don't care for muggleborns, and ten years ago there was a war among our kind about just that issue."

"Who won?" I asked.

"You wouldn't be allowed a wand if the other side had won," he said. "But they never really went away. They simply went quiet."

"And they aren't so quiet now?"

"There have been rumors," he said. "No one really knows. But no one really wants to risk bringing the bad times back by asking."

He must have seen that I understood from my expression, because he stepped back and hustled to get me another copy of my wand.

As he bustled around, I looked outside the window at people shopping. I still wasn't sure I should even be here, but the wands were cheap enough that it was worth it just for that.

"Blackthorn, ten inches with a dragon heartstring, very flexible. That will be twenty one galleons."

"I thought that they were seven galleons apiece," I said.

"The first one is subsidized by Hogwarts," he said. "Fourteen is the true price."

I'd heard the name Hogwarts bandied around a few times, but I still hadn't found out what it was. I hadn't dared to ask, because that might reveal that I wasn't supposed to be here.

"Fine," I said. I handed over the money.

I slid one wand into my backpack, and the other into belt. It wouldn't fit into my pocket, and my arms were too short to hide it up my sleeves. Maybe some kind of holster?

Without saying anything else, I left Ollivanders. The old man had creeped me out, given his tendency to stare just a little too long and to make cryptic pronouncements. I wasn't sure what to make of his assertion that wands were semi-sentient. I hoped that it was just a marketing ploy, because if it wasn't, then was owning one a little like slavery?

Wandering around, I saw a lot of products that I couldn't ever see a need for. Why would I buy a cauldron, or the parts to dozens of disgusting animals?

I was heading for the nearest bookstore when I stopped.

Gambol and Japes seemed to be a joke store. While it was possible that I wouldn't find anything useful, it wasn't impossible that these people might be stupid enough to actually sell things that could be used as weapons.

Stepping inside, I looked around. One thing I'd noticed about these people was that it seemed like they had a lot of tinkers. On my world, parahumans with the power to build technology were considered some of the most dangerous capes around.

Here, there were products of whatever power these people used everywhere. There were floating broomsticks and moving chess pieces. There were a thousand different products, all scattered around without any seeming rhyme or reason.

I looked carefully through the products. A lot of it really did seem to be useless; what was I going to do with artificial poop that turned back into rubber with a command word? With a telescope that gave the user a black eye?

Some of the pranks seemed to be mean spirited, and all I could think was that my bullies would have loved a store like this back when I was in Winslow. They'd been forced to limit themselves to the usual pushes and shoves and spilled food... at least until they'd shoved me into a locker filled with two week old tampons and other medical waste.

I could see that sort of escalation in some of the pranks this place sold, and it didn't give me a good feeling about these people that the shop seemed to be very successful.

Who would buy something like this unless they were bullying people? It didn't say good things that business was so good with such a presumably small population.

After five minutes of browsing, I froze as I found one that seemed really interesting.

"Peruvian instant darkness powder?" I asked the proprietor. It looked like a black rock, not like a powder at all.

"Throw it, and it will shroud your target in darkness."

"How dark?"

"Impenetrably dark," the man said. He was younger than the wand maker, maybe my Dad's age. "He won't be able to see his hand in front of his face. I have to advise against using it at the top of stairs or in other dangerous places."

It was almost as though he was telling me exactly how to murder someone. Was he an idiot, or was he actually promoting using his product for killing?

"How much is it?"

"Ten galleons," he said.

At my look, he said, "We have to import it from Peru. It lasts a while too; depending on prevailing winds and the like up to fifteen minutes."

"I'll take three," I said. "And these marbles work to trip anyone, even on unlevel ground?"

"They're enchanted to seek out the person who steps on them and to make them flail around comically before falling down. We used to sell banana peels that did the same thing, but there were issues with quality control."

"I'll take three sets of those, and some of these firecrackers. Are they legal to use in London?"

"Not for children, so you'll have to stay out of muggle areas when you use them."

Carefully, I picked out the fireworks that looked like they were the most dangerous. They reminded me a little of my Dad's reminiscences of the good old days when fireworks were strong enough to blow people's hands off.

Hopefully these tinkertech fireworks would be just as dangerous. Even if they weren't, I could probably use them as a distraction. I had enough control over my insects that I could probably use them to light one while I was somewhere else.

I nodded, and I stuffed my purchases in my backpack.

The clerk looked uneasy as he handed me my receipt. "You aren't planning to do anything illegal are you?"

"I'm just a kid," I said, smiling. It didn't reach my eyes.

He didn't looked convinced. If anything, he looked even more anxious. He staggered back as I moved around him toward the door.

"Watch your step," I said as I left, waving.

As I passed through a number of other stores, I didn't see anything I would need. Robes might help me fit in here, but where would I keep them? Buying a cat or a snake or even an owl would be irresponsible when I was living out in the wild.

The bookstore was where I really needed to go, but I stopped into a shop called Barons.

It was here that I really found myself getting excited. It was a shop filled with chests and containers of all kinds. Some weren't enchanted at all, while others were larger on the inside. They sold wizarding tents too, some of which had indoor plumbing and showers.

I really, really wanted one of those, but there was no way I'd be able to set one up in the middle of London without someone noticing and coming to investigate. Even if I could, the cheapest tent would cost more than half of my original stash.

They had chests that expanded on the inside too, including some deluxe models that expanded on the inside to the size of a rather largish house. Unfortunately, they also came with a price tag that was as much as a house. Even if that wasn't true, I still didn't have a place to put it.

It occurred to me that what I really needed to do was to find a warehouse that I could break into. If I could do that, I could set up a Wizarding tent inside and no one would notice. There was no point in buying anything here until I could find a place for it though.

Still, the thought of plumbing and showers whenever I wanted was almost enough to make me pony up the money immediately.

The woman saw the look of disappointment on my face, and she looked down at the fanny pack at my waist. From the expression on people's faces I'd learned not to call it a fanny pack. I still wasn't sure what I should actually call it.

"I don't suppose you know of any stores that sells stuff like this secondhand?" I asked.

She frowned. "There's a couple of stores in Knockturn Alley... but it's not safe for someone like you to go there."

Could everyone tell I was a muggleborn just by looking at me? Did I look like a tourist? I was going to have to work on my act.

"It's just... I really need something like this, but these prices are a little steeper than I can afford," I said. I looked up at her. "I may have to risk it."

"You shouldn't... you really shouldn't," she said.

Her saying it made me want to visit it even more. It sounded like it was what the bad parts of every town were. The place where pawnshops and petty crooks were found. However, there was an undertone to her voice. If this was where the genocidal wizards were congregating, it might not be wise for me to go there, at least until I was able to increase the size of my swarm.

She must have seen something in my expression that she didn't like. The woman bit her lip, and then looked around. There was no one else in the store.

"I could enchant that for you," she said. "I'm really not supposed to; the Ministry regulates these things, but there's a workaround that helps avoid breaking the Secrecy rules."

"Oh?"

"Your bag will be able to hold up to six hundred pounds," she said. "But to muggles it will appear to be empty. I can even throw in a charm so that whatever you ask for is always at the top of the pile."

"How much will it weigh?" I asked. I struggled to keep the growing excitement off my face. This was something that would be a game changer for me, but if I let her know how badly I wanted it, she'd overcharge me.

Telling me that it was semi-illegal was most likely a marketing ploy to drive up the price. Still, if I could afford it, I was going to buy it. I couldn't afford not to.

"Nothing," she said. "Not more than the bag itself anyway."

"Should I have it done to my backpack instead?"

"That thing will be a lot more convenient than the bigger bag, and a lot less likely to get stolen, especially if you hide it under your shirt."

"You won't be able to fit anything larger than the mouth of the pack inside, but you can always carry with with you. The things inside are protected from each other; they don't jumble together or break. You can even keep your wand inside."

"Can living things survive inside?"

"As long as the air holds out," she said. She looked at me curiously. "Are you planning to put a cat or Kneazel in there?"

I shook my head. "I was just curious."

I'd never weighed any of my swarms, but I had a feeling that six hundred pounds of bugs would be a fearsome amount. If this worked out, I'd probably be back for a couple of more.

"How much?"

"Seventy galleons."

At the rate I was going I was going to be out of money by the end of the day. It didn't matter, though. I still had the rest of it buried in the bush, and this would make my life so much easier. I'd be able to keep all the food inside, and all my other goods except for my backpack.

"How long would it take?"

"Three hours," she said.

"Done."

I handed over even more money, and I was out, feeling lighter than I had in a while It wasn't a Wizarding tent, but it would solve a lot of my problems, and if I could find a place to put it, I could get one of those too.

It would be like getting my life back. While I could stand living outdoors, I hated feeling unsafe. When winter came, I was going to be in trouble, and the Wizarding tents were climate controlled.

These people seemed to believe that they were wizards and witches. I couldn't argue that they seemed to have powers, but magic didn't exist. More likely these were just parahuman powers channeled through a set of backward beliefs.

It might even be that these people weren't powered by passengers like I had been, but were some kind of mutation. There were a lot of them, and they all seemed to have similar powers, so that seemed the most reasonable explanation.

They'd cloaked their powers with a lot of myth and legend, which suggested that these people had had them for a while. Hopefully, whatever I found at the bookstore would answer questions that I was having without my having to arouse suspicion.

Reaching the bookstore, I slipped inside.

"Looking for your Hogwarts books?" the teenage witch behind the counter asked. "We've still got a few stacks left. First year books are on the far end. We've got the whole set."

I followed her directions to a table where the books were stacked up in groups.

Standard book of spells... I doubted that would do me much good, considering that I was a parahuman and not actually a witch. A history of magic sounded like exactly the book I wanted, though. Magical theory might be all right. The books on herbs and potions didn't sound like anything I'd ever use.

The books on fantastic beasts might be useful; I'd seen enough strange creatures to be curious about them. Had they been created by the wizards like the animated chess pieces and flying brooms? We'd had bio-tinkers at home, but they'd typically used their powers to create things far worse than dragons and unicorns.

Maybe the goblins were bio-tinkered by the wizard too. The history of magic might clear some of that up.

It was probably best to buy the whole set so as not to arouse suspicion. My fanny pack had a mouth large enough to slide the books into.

"I'm going to look around for a bit if you don't mind," I said.

I stayed for several hours, but realized that I needed to get my pack before that store closed. I returned, and spent more money than I had to on books, shoving them into the fanny pack as fast as I could go. I them emptied out my backpack into the fanny pack, and shoved the backpack in there too.

By the end of the day I was exhausted. I barely caught the last bus home, and the walk back to my culvert seemed to take forever. I didn't have a tenth of the endurance I'd had in my adult body, and the thought of sleeping back in a hole when I'd seen Wizarding tents was dispiriting.

I froze as I turned around a corner and saw a tall man leaning down and staring into my culvert. He was thin, with sallow skin. He had shoulder length, greasy hair.

They'd found me!

I reached into my fanny pack, and began to pull out the things I was going to need.