By the time Lucie reached the lifts, she was beyond panic. If she'd stopped for a second to take the badge from the telephone that said "Lucy Scot – Seeking Law Enforcement Aid" she would have A, been livid that her name was spelled wrong again and B, let the thought into her head that while she probably wasn't supposed to be here it was highly unlikely that anyone would refuse to help a young woman being attacked. However, the second she started running, the security guy had shouted followed her and Lucie had far too much experience in dealing with being chased through large buildings by security staff.

With the speed born of terror, she all but flew, ignoring her immediate surroundings with two things on her mind. One, find the back exit. Two, Dorian Gray looking chap following but not chasing her. She pictured the two guys from the alley in his company and found an extra burst of speed, throwing herself between the closing doors of a lift.

Aside from her, there was no one else in there. After a moment catching her breath, she opened her eyes and slowly turned them upwards. Several paper aeroplanes were happily floating, flying unattended. She closed her eyes again. The same pleasant voice form the phone booth announced the floor. Lucie disregarded the department names as obviously being part of the same hallucination that made her see the paper aeroplanes. The doors pinged open and some of the planes zoomed away. Lucie followed, staring at them. The second lift pinged and Lucie's feet found their wings again.

Extremely rattled now and becoming increasingly short of breath, she barrelled down the corridor, convinced she heard following footsteps. Convinced she was going mad. There were windows showing the sunny weather from outside, but they were underground she was sure. The offices she passed trickled strange words and odd sounds into the corridor like a Lewis Carroll story. With no destination and no end game in mind, she was beginning to feel light headed – and then she saw it. Skidding to a halt she turned back. The plaque on the door said "A. Weasley". That boy who had her phone, his friend's name was Weasley. She hammered on the door.

Currently, Arthur Weasley wanted to curse Elephant and Castle off the map. Every time he got a report of something messy and potentially dangerous, it always seemed to be there. He sighed; scribbling a memo to the wizard he was sending. That was a plus, at least. These days MoMA was treated like a real department and he had the staff to spare.

A sudden loud banging on the door made him jump almost off his chair.

"Come in," he called irritably, then stood up in amazement as a young blonde woman in muggle clothing burst gasping and sobbing into the room and slammed the door behind her.

"Please help!" she choked, before he could say anything. "On the tube, there was a boy…named Ron… Ron Weasley, do you..?"

"He's my son," said Arthur, moving around his desk towards the shaking girl.

"Your son, and his friend, they have my phone and then these two guys, they tried to attack me and then and the phone box was a lift and I was in a hall and they chased me and this creepy guy was looking at me and the paper aeroplanes fly! THEY FLY!"

With that, she broke into uncontrollable crying. Gently but firmly pushing her into a chair, Arthur summoned a box of tissues from thin air and wondered how to set about getting the full story. He tried not to be too gleeful about having an actual muggle in his office, for it was clear that that's what the girl was.

A second, much more decorous knock at his door scared her back to her feet, suddenly silent. Without hesitation, she threw herself under his desk.

"Come in," he repeated.

"Morning, Weasley," said an unwelcome voice.

"Oh," he said with distaste. "Good morning, Alderton. Can I help you?" He uttered that last phrase in a tone that made it sound more like "go away".

"Bit of a do in the Atrium, Weasley. Seems we have an intruder."

"How exciting. And you came directly to keep me up to date with the gossip?"

"No, no, old thing. Word is she might be a muggle. Your area of expertise, what?"

"Muggle Artifacts. If you find her, do send. I'll be happy to make sure she has nothing dangerous on her person. Now, if you don't mind, I'm quite busy."

Alderton allowed his sneer to roam over the room.

"Of course you are. Good day to you."

When the door was safely shut, Arthur counted to twenty before walking back around his desk and looking down at the intruder in question. He didn't trust Alderton, who had mysteriously disappeared from work shortly before the uprising of the Death Eaters and reappeared soon after the Battle of Hogwarts. However much it was said that his work as an unmentionable had taken him to South America. Arthur made a decision. He took something out of a drawer and crouched down.

"I need you to listen to me carefully. Magic is real. Wizards exist. We hide our community from non-magical people. I'm going to send you to my son's – Ron's brother's – flat. You'll be safe there until you've had time to calm down a bit. I'll come and talk to you there. There is a chance I may have to put a spell on you to make you forget this ever happened. Do you understand?"

"Understand, yes," she managed. "Comprehend, no."

"Good. Now, put the number of the phone Ron has into this one."

He handed her a muggle phone he'd bought when Molly's back was turned. He'd been experimenting with it. He went to the fire place and made a quick floo call to George. Then he helped the girl up, gave her quick instructions on how to travel and watched her step, dreamlike, into green flames and say George's address. He punched the green call button.