Chapter 2 summary: Accidental magic caused a fire that allowed Ariana to escape from sex traffickers.
Chapter 3: Traveling
Ginny was relieved one day when she came downstairs to make breakfast and found that Ariana's hand had moved from "Mortal Peril" to "Traveling." She called out to Harry, who rushed to the kitchen.
"I don't understand how we can't find her but the clock can still track her," Ginny told Harry.
"There was likely a very powerful anti-tracking charm placed on her, but the clock uses a unique spell that formed a bond with her. I'll ask around, maybe we can use it to find her somehow." He wondered if it could somehow be turned into a compass, something that could lead him to her.
Ginny nodded, teary eyed, and stared at the hand that had been set at "Mortal Peril" for months.
"Maybe she'll come home?" Ginny asked.
"If she got away, maybe her kidnapper is just moving her somewhere new." Ginny choked a sob and Harry embraced her, silently vowing to stop at no means to find their daughter.
Being on her own was more difficult than she had imagined. She walked for hours in the dark after her escape. She decided to sleep during the day and climbed up a fire escape to a rooftop. There, the sun was warm and she was able to sleep. The first night, she found leftovers behind a restaurant. And then sat in the alleyway, trying to create a fire again. That night, it didn't work, but the next night, she managed to set some newspaper on fire using just her head.
Three nights after her escape, still wandering the city, she was looking through another restaurant's trash when a homeless man approached her. She went to run, but he begged her to stop.
"Wait! We can help each other." She whipped around. "I don't see how, sir." He reeked and she stepped away from him.
"Well, I'm gon' guess yeh don't wanna go back were yeh came from?" She shook her head no.
"If you were to try an' get help, from the state you see, they would send you back." She didn't really understand what he meant; she had started to realize how little she knew about the world. The state would send her back to those horrible people?
"An' I can't find a place to sleep 'cause I'm just some ole man who made some bad decisions. But, together, father an' daugh'er, I bet we could find a way to get two beds tonigh'."
She didn't trust him and took another step back. Strange men and beds didn't mix.
"An' maybe a hot meal. An' a coat for yeh too." He reached into a large bag that he was carrying and handed her a smelly blanket.
"Here's a peace offerin'. I don't need to ask you no questions. I don't need to know your circumstances. We can just work together for a place to sleep. Hell, yeh could stand to learn a few things about living on yeh own."
She took the blanket and, despite the smell, wrapped it around her shoulders. She had been shivering but felt better now. She nodded, because something needed to change: She couldn't roam the streets in a little burned dress forever.
"Wha's your name?"
"I don't have a name," she told him.
"Well, yeh need a name. Hmmm... what abou' Emily?"
She shrugged and nodded.
"Alrigh' Emily, my name is Jack, Jack Waterson. So, yeh gon' be Emily Waterson, got it?"
Jack was right, they got two beds in the family section and a hot meal that night. The next morning, they asked for warmer clothes for her, and she got to rummage through boxes for jeans, sweaters, a jacket, and even boots. She was happy to get rid of the dress and the shoes, which had started to hurt her feet. Warm and fed, they went back to the shelter each night. Jack was impatient at times with how little Emily knew about the world, but taught her a lot every day.
It got much colder, and Emily feared that she might not have a warm place to sleep one night. She remembered what snow was, but when she tried to think of the last winter, she came up blank. When Emily was alone, she continued to work on the fire and was getting much better at it. She didn't even have to burn anything, she could start a fire out of nothing, even cup one in her hands.
Jack had a brother in Manchester and the two of them went up there, he said, for Christmas. But, when they arrived, Jack was thrown out of the house. His brother screamed at him for even stopping by and she watched Jack cry and beg for forgiveness. Emily wasn't sure what he'd done but felt very uncomfortable. They had to walk a long way to the shelter downtown.
Having no identity, she felt herself turning into Emily Waterson. She could tell people where she grew up, about the mother that she and Jack had made up, and why her mother had left them. That night, Manchester's shelter was full of volunteers and she was even given a Christmas present: A doll with curly dark hair, wearing a pretty pink dress. She hated it and left it sitting by the tree for someone else.
She did love the carols and the feast which was prepared for them. She ate as much as she could, until she felt sick. Living on the streets wasn't so bad that night.
Manchester was much smaller than London. But everything went bad one night when Jack had a lot to drink. He had purchased a bottle of liquor and was drinking all day on the street. When night fell, she tried to get him to stand up and go to the shelter.
"Leave me here to die."
"I won' do tha'. Come on, we need to go if we're gon ge' dinner!"
He wouldn't budge. And after several attempts she got angry.
"We're gon' freeze tonigh' let's go!"
"Shut up you bitch whore!" He yelled. She had tried to pull him up but he took a swing at her with the bottle, crashing it on her head. She felt it cut her head and she cried out. "Stupid bitch!" He yelled and came at her with the bottle. She thought quick and he went up in flames, just long enough to stop him. She made them disappear.
"Come a' me again and I'll set yeh on fire."
"Wha? – Yeh stupid freak, get outta here! Get out!"
She got up and ran off, she felt some hot liquid running down her ear but kept walking and reached a residential area. Her stomach rumbled, having not eaten since a small bagged sweet that morning. She followed Jack's old advice and went to the back door of a restaurant. Instead of taking food from the garbage, she waited for a worker to come out and asked for any leftovers.
He was young, maybe 20, and looked at her sadly.
"Hey, I'll bring you out something in the next 20 minutes or so. Yeh got a home little girl?"
She shook her head no.
"I know of somewhere yeh might be able to sleep tonight, stay here, OK?"
A whole world opened up to her that night: there were kids everywhere who had no home, who knew tips on how to get food and steal pocket-change, where to sleep, and who not to trust—everyone.