WHEEZIES

It struck her as deliciously funny that for all their superpowers, they still hadn't worked out how to streamline purchasing properly. Compared to self-serve checkouts, this approach was positively archaic.

She really liked the gift-wrap station though.

It made everything super fancy. In a way she'd never admit to liking.

It would be nice to get a present like that, beautifully wrapped with fluttering butterflies on top, or exploding glitter stars, where you'd see a bow on a normal gift…

Bee had to keep stamping on the jittery anxiety that kept bubbling up. It had taken all her guts to go into the strange pub, make that mad dash through the brick wall on the coat tails of that strange man, navigate the wizard street and walk into the wizard shop, and she still had half expected not to find them. But she had. And that was even more frightening.

Because it meant that everything she'd thought was real, was real.

Ginny was nice, she supposed, and really trying to be friendly. But she was so pretty it made Bee uncomfortable. In her experience, the pretty ones were the worst.

She definitely liked George though. He'd looked at her like a person. And she knew she looked like a freak. Even by wizard standards, she suspected, because none of the customers were wearing garlic or anything. Maybe it was just wizards, and not vampires or werewolves or ghosts?

She was still kind of shocked that he'd asked her to help out. It seemed… crazy? And sensible too; they really needed more staff. The products were like that as well, crazy and sensible at the same time. Except for the paper-eating pencils; they were just insane.

She'd had to say yes really. Not like she knew how to get out of this secret wizard place, now she was in; she'd have to find the entrance again and she was not at all sure she could.

As the afternoon wore on, she started to relax a little. She was worried that if she let down her defences, relaxed that mental brick wall, that some kind of evil magic would come crashing in, that maybe, even though they were nice people and had rescued her, they would just take her back to that weird place with the lady in robes who had tried to suck out her mind.

Gradually, the effort of concentrating on the weird money, and keeping up, and not blinking at the astounding things people were buying soothed her worries. It was almost as though, now that she was surrounded by magic, magic that was silly and funny and mundane, it all felt less threatening.

There were still spikes of panic, like when something exploded in aisle two, or when Ginny had leaned over to explain something and got too close, and the magic and fear made her skin prickle, and she said something snappish and cross…

And just like that, it was five o'clock. And George was handing her a fistful of cash, and asking where she'd like to go to talk.

It was all a bit much. She shrugged.

"We could go up to the flat?" George suggested, "Or we could just stay here, while Verity finishes closing up…?"

Bee felt the stress rark up again. This was not her territory. This was… all the fear started to resurface, and she felt something snappish and sharp about to come out of her mouth.

"What about a muggle café or- or a restaurant or something?" Ginny was giving her a worried look, "I mean, it must be a bit strange for you here- why don't you take us somewhere you feel comfortable?"

Bee bit back the growl in her throat.

"Yeah, awright. You'll have to open that wall for me though."

"What? Oh, the Leaky, yeah of course. Hey look, how did you get in? Are you a magic user?" George had his head tipped to the side. Bee noticed he was missing an ear.

She considered him.

"Not as far as I know." She bit her lip. Ah, sod it. "I followed some bloke in."

"I still don't understand- no, you know what, it doesn't matter, let's go find somewhere to eat. Our shout," Ginny clarified.

The street outside was just as strange as the purple wizard shop. People wandered about in vaguely historic looking robes, wands out, or shoved in a pocket or up a sleeve; a surprising number of people had owls or toads perched on their shoulders; and Bee thought the weirdest thing was that it seemed some wizards did wear pointy hats. She had that overwhelmed feeling again and her voice came out as a growl in reply to Ginny, who was still asking cautious questions as though she expected Bee to turn savage and bite.

Bee felt savage.

She felt threatened and unsafe. She felt… she needed answers.

No-one was going to get to her mind the way that lunking monster of a man had done, the way the robed lady had tried.

She felt the awkward shape of the box in her pocket.

She needed answers.

MASTER OF INDIA, RESTAURANT, TAKE-AWAYS

George felt quite excited about the idea of curry. He hadn't been excited about terribly much lately, but curry was something he never had much of an opportunity to eat. The realisation that the British Wizarding community was incredibly culturally homogenous hit him uncomfortably in the stomach. Was it any wonder they'd gone after muggleborns?

It wasn't as though everyone at Hogwarts had been… well. White. It was… he'd never really thought about 'race' at all really, except in terms of muggleborn or not… But… blancmange and roast dinners? George discovered he was totally on board with the idea of laksa and samosa and baklava and well, all the delicious things including and not limited to dishes ending in 'a'. Not that it all boiled down to food. He frowned and fidgeted with the table decorations.

Had they all been too isolated for too long? This whole fight had felt very… English. Even France hadn't been involved really, in dealing with Voldemort… he'd have to ask Fleur about it. He knew there were powerful and confusing African Wizarding areas, not divided up the way muggles divided up African countries, but more by philosophy, he couldn't quite remember… and the Americas had several different Magical governing bodies… the news had used to contain little snippets from overseas before Voldemort returned and it all came back to what was happening at home, on the little island, that in the grand scheme of things was really just that. Little.

The girl, who was still refusing to share her name, had tucked the iron poker underneath her chair, and had given Ginny a mildly irritated look when she'd told the waiter that they were planning on going to a fancy dress party later.

George couldn't shake the feeling of… well, something akin to fate. He certainly didn't believe in fate, not at all, if anything, the complete opposite. But he had a good feeling about this. Somehow, this person, whoever she was, had been sent to them, somehow.

A very secret part of him wanted to think that maybe… no. He couldn't even think that to himself just yet.

Besides they didn't know anything about her.

"So, here's the thing," Ginny was saying, "I know you had our address, but that whole street is supposed to be accessible only with magic, and you have to go through the Leaky to get there. How did you even see the Leaky? It's got magic on it to stop mug- non- magical people seeing it."

The girl was frowning. She was almost always frowning. George had caught a glimpse of a tiny enchanted smile when someone had purchased a pygmy puff, but so far, the frown and the big fake customer service smile were all the expressions he'd seen.

Girl has defences a mile thick.

Probably not surprising given her experiences with Crabbe.

"My pa's a postman," she said finally, "He's not stupid, and he knows everything there is to know about London. I figured, if the address was a street in Charing Cross, and it wasn't on the map, then it had to be one of the hidden streets,"

She paused while the waiter loaded up the tables with little bowls of fragrant sauces and mounds of rice and naan bread and enormously tall glass of something the girl had ordered which was called lassi. George eyed it with interest and felt very poorly educated.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the hidden streets, you know," she looked at them expectantly. They gazed blankly back, "There are heaps of streets in London that used to exist that don't any more. Some of them are underground now; the street is still there, underneath the modern street, you can see them sometimes through those drainage grills. And there are other ones where people just built across the ends of the street so it's like a double dead end; just an empty strip in a city block. And I figure, even if magic is real, it doesn't make sense to like, magic up a whole other Charing Cross or whatever, so I figured it had to be one of the hidden streets, and there would probably be a building or a wall or something where the entrance would be."

An astonishing piece of information, and one George had a hard time digesting. Was this what wizarding London was like to muggles? Abandoned streets that no-one would have a reason to visit, even if they knew they were there…? He supposed it made sense, that was what those spells were for in the first place, he'd just never thought about how muggles would account for missing sections of their city scape. He'd just assumed they wouldn't notice.

"But even if you knew it was there, you shouldn't have been able to see it," Ginny insisted, "You must have some magical heritage."

The girl sighed and pulled a crumpled tourist map from one of the jacket pockets.

"Here's all the possible hidden streets round Charing Cross." There were a few biro scribbles, "I just cruised around and checked them out. I figured, if there was magic involved, I had to look for other stuff, you know, like, counting the number of people who walk towards where the hidden street was, and then counting the number of people walking away, or like, focusing really hard on where anyone who was dressed a bit magic-like was going so I'd see if they disappeared. I tried a few streets and got nothing, and then I watched a few people disappear before I got good at seeing where they were disappearing to. And then it took another few people before I got in there, and well, then I had the hang of it and I just went through that pub wall with someone,"

"If you had magical heritage, the ministry should have picked it up. And the healer would have noticed when she was treating you yesterday. Speaking of which, look. I'm not saying it's right or whatever, but they told us you'd been obliviated- had your memory of last night taken away. But you obviously remember. From your perspective, what happened?"

She gave them a hard look and ate a large scoop of vindaloo with a corner of naan.

Thinking time, George assumed. Fair enough.

"I was out. With some people. This guy handed me a business card. I took it to rip up and toss back at him, the creep, and something went wrong with my head. I figured I'd been drugged or something. I couldn't… move properly, or do anything, or think, like, well I could think you know, but I couldn't like, formulate a plan or anything. Like I knew what was going on, but I couldn't do anything about it. And then you turned up and set fire to the bastard, which, thank you, by the way, and then you turned up with that girl band, and started shooting off magic every which way. When we got to wherever that was, before they took the spell off me, I heard them talking about obliv-whatever, saying they were going to wipe my memory. And like I said, I couldn't plan or anything, but they took the spell off first, and asked questions, and I had half a mind to leg it, but well, magic you know? Like, something shady was happening. So then when the mind-sucker went for the spell, I just… I dunno. Closed my mind? Then acted real confused and let them put me on the bus. Mind-sucker said I'd been black-out drunk, and I probably wouldn't remember much." She snorted, "Where do you lot get off pinching people's memories? Invasive, violation of human rights prob'ly, and besides which, dangerous! I'm so goddamn careful about drink spiking, but I've never heard business card spiking, and your lot want to take that memory away? Send a girl back in to be raped why don't you."

George exchanged an awkward look with Ginny. Where to begin?

"Er…"

"It's appalling," Ginny to the rescue, "I completely agree. Memory charms are… We have a friend who got half her memories wiped, and she doesn't even recognise us, it's awful. And really unfair. And I'd be furious, if I were you. So… so. Sorry? I know that's inadequate. And it doesn't excuse it, but it's kind of what happens when muggles- non magic folk- see magic by accident, because of the Statute of Secrecy-"

The girl was pulling a face at Ginny's sudden flood of words.

"-So, so there's this thing- George help me out, here-"

"The wizarding world is scared of non-magical people finding out about magic and killing everyone," George supplied.

The girl snorted.

"You have magic," she said bitterly, "Why haven't you brainwashed everyone into some kind of slave race?"

"Aside from the obvious ethical reasons, it doesn't work like that," Ginny explained, "The magical population is tiny by comparison to the muggle population, so it's much easier just to stay hidden than risk another spate of witch hunts, and yes, I know you're thinking magic, but if someone's hunting you, magic or no magic, you kind of have to run or fight, and neither option involves just getting on with your life,"

The girl considered them both and ate some more curry.

"You should also know there are very stringent laws about performing magic on, or even in the presence of muggles," said George, matching her stare for stare, "So Crabbe- the blockhead who assaulted you- should never have been able to do what he did at all. The ministry should have been down on him the second he confounded you. That's also why Ginny set him on fire rather than hexing him; if she'd cast there she would have been arrested, not him."

She gazed back at him, chewing thoughtfully.

"That's messed up,"

"Yeah, it is,"

They lapsed into silence, and George found himself wishing he knew what Ginny was thinking. Or the girl for that matter.

His own thoughts were cartwheeling all over the place. Cursed business cards? What was Crabbe doing with a business card? Some kind of date-rape spell… this was a whole different kind of evil to Voldemort. This wasn't death-and-destruction, this was… he felt there was a kind of unspeakable wickedness to this that made Voldemort's plans for domination seem… sanitised? Almost as though Voldemort's descent into darkness had transformed him into an evil killing thing, incapable of something as… as human as rape. George shuddered.

"We're looking for someone," he said, taking a swig of water, "Another wizard, who used to hang out with that guy at school,"

The girl thumped the tabletop by accident.

"You know him?!"

"Only by reputation, and believe me, I wish I didn't," said George, "We tracked him down hoping he might tell us where this other wizard is hiding."

"Another fuckwit?"

George and Ginny exchanged looks.

"You could say that. We think this wizard may know something about what happened to our friend with the memory loss,"

The girl's eyes went round.

"Shit, sorry, no- I mean, we don't think- look, it was in the middle of a battle, so we don't think she's been abused or- well, aside from her memory- he's a slimeball, but I dunno that he'd- It was completely different circumstances to what happened to you,"

She helped herself to a pappadum, and didn't take her eyes of him.

"Point is, we're trying to find him, because he saw what happened to her… but he… his side lost the war. So he's hiding. Or hidden. We're not sure."

She didn't say anything.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

"Seriously? Her first day in the wizarding world, and you're going to start explaining the battle of Hogwarts? Why don't we fill her in on the Boy Who Lived and bloody You Know Who?"

The girl quirked an eyebrow.

"Or you could skip that and explain to me how the hell I'm supposed to stay safe in a world where wizards can do what they like,"

Ginny frowned.

"You should have been protected… unless maybe you've got, what, just enough magic to not trigger a muggle alert, but not enough to register as a witch? No see, that doesn't make sense either. Pity we don't have that business card to analyse,"

George saw a thought dart across the girl's face. She looked almost… like a teenager in way too deep. He knew far too many of those.

She put down her cutlery, and fished back in her jacket pocket. She put a small box down on the table, like a for a watch, or a piece of jewellery.

"It's in there,"

They stared at the innocuous little box.

"How did you…?"

"Rubber gloves and tweezers. Not taking any chances, and figured it was triggered by like, skin,"

"Like a portkey," Ginny murmured. "Dammit George, we have to report this. No, no, not you, whatever your name is! I wouldn't take you anywhere near the Ministry again, they'd want to lock you up and do tests. But if there's a new confundus going round, law enforcement needs to know."

"Keep it," she said, shrugging. Her assorted necklaces clinked and rustled. "Just give me some way of staying safe. Speaking of, does any of this shit actually work?"

"Eh? Oh. You mean as protection," Ginny peered over the table, "Well, vampires don't like garlic, but only in the way that I don't like the smell of feet. What else have you got? World religions… those could have some protective power, talismans absorb energy over time, but they'd have to be very old to have enough juice to work as protection against magic… crystals… very dodgy. There's a whole thing with crystals and resonance, but the jury's out on how effective they are and whether or not you can really strip negative energy out of them… look, do you trust us enough to let us make you a protective amulet? Because we could do that, if you want."

George realised the girl had mostly been looking at and talking to him. But now she was looking at Ginny, eyes narrowed. Thinking again, he supposed. Ginny looked anxious. Almost… as though having to survive in a world without the ability to cast a bat-bogey hex was something she couldn't bear the thought of.

"Yeah, awright." The girl bit her lip. "I'm Bee,"

"Sorry?"

She rolled her eyes.

"My name," she said, a touch impatiently. "You can call me Bee." She stabbed at her food with her fork.

She still doesn't feel safe…

"What's this bloke's name anyway, this wizard you're lookin' for?"