"Sakura Watanabe. You are now under the care of Wizarding Witness Protection."
I don't know what question to ask first. What happened at the graveyard? Who is David? Who is Bitch? And WTF wizards are real?
"My name is Sonia Lesparce I'm Superintendent of Ontario's Wizarding Witness Protection Program. You have been selected for this program based on the risk posed to you by a group we call the Segregates. Their objective is the preservation of the secrecy of wizard kind. This is an objective shared by the government but the methods vary considerably. The Segregates are considered a wizarding gang if you will and their activity is illegal. We have been tracking you since the murder of your father. Thompson- David Thompson- was charged with tracking you. In making contact he identified you to the Segregates and now you require protection. And yes, wizards are real. Any further questions?"
Murdered? He had a heart attack. But my knowledge of Harry Potter is so ingrained I don't have trouble believing a killing curse could be covered up as a simple heart attack.
"Why would they do this? My dad was television producer! He was normal… a muggle…" I reflect on what David told me. My family was supposedly magical (except me). Why would my father keep that from me?
"I can see you're upset. I will have Wu get you oriented. Good day." She turns to some paperwork.
The door magically opens and a young man stands there. Or maybe he opened it manually. Whatever. He's dressed in muggle attire too. So was David. It occurs to me that Canadian wizard culture might be more of a learning experience than anticipated. Not that I ever thought about it before today.
"Hi, I'm Joon. I'm here to help you get settled! Follow me and I'll show you to The Nest." Thankfully we're walking not apparating. I'm with Harry, apparition sucks. We leave the building to an unfamiliar area of Toronto that looks a bit like Queen's Park (where I was planning on working) or U of T (my school). Old buildings, big lawns.
We enter a neighbouring building. It's gorgeous, a big manor built around an inner courtyard. The interior looks like a fancy hotel or an old age home. I'm shown to a room on the fifth (and top) floor. It's furnished and three times the size of my apartment! I get my own washroom, a queen-sized bed, a living room and a kitchen. The living room has a lounge area and a desk so I'll be able to study. There's bookshelves everywhere which is suiting because I have a ton of books. I just had to keep them in boxes under my bed before but now they will be displayed in all their glory! It's a distraction from the idea that someone made my dad dead on purpose.
"Your things will arrive-" crack. Boxes fill the space. I see dishes, books, clothing, linens and all my other stuff. Guess I'm never seeing my old place again. Joon laughs.
"Well, here it is! Look, I have the day booked entirely for you now so- oh shoot! I gotta get David to see Sonia. I'll be back in like ten minutes." He turns on his heel and disappears. I'm alone.
So. I'm a squib. My father was a wizard. He was murdered. Why? For some sort of magical political reason. His work didn't put him in any more danger than anyone else in the Harry Potter franchise- theme park workers, actors, the animation team my father oversaw. Were they all in danger? And apparently their families as well? It didn't make sense. Who could be crazy enough to take on the entire world of Harry Potter?
I make my bed and put away my clothes and shoes. By the time I'm done there's a knock on the door. I look through the peep hole. It's Joon again. I guess it's etiquette to not apparate directly into someone's home. I let him in.
"Hi, sorry about that," he says. "Would you like me to help you unpack?"
"Um, sure, the books can go in any order on the shelves." I figure that will keep him occupied, like, all day but he flicks his wand and the books make their ways to the shelves in seconds. If that's how it's going to be he's unpacking all the kitchenware too. I arrange my plants in the window and soon enough we're done. Joon vanishes the boxes.
"Let's go grocery shopping," Joon suggests.
I was expecting Food Basics. Shopping carts, checkouts. Normal, muggle grocery shopping. The Nest had its own grocery store. Most foods were the same in the organics section with the odd root vegetable I didn't recognise or something. Processed foods were in vials not microwave containers. I read some, preparation instructions include spells or "simple" potions. I of course couldn't buy any of these. Joon treated me to a mousse moose at the cash. I don't think I'll eat it. It's hilarious.
When we get back to my apartment it dawns on me that I don't have any electronics. Including a fridge. Joon enchants one cupboard to be chilled and another to be frozen. He promises to have the muggle artifacts team install this ball of light you place plugs into and acts like electricity. So I'll be able to charge my laptop. No Wi-Fi though. Joon is more educated on muggle affairs than Harry Potter led me to believe and understands hat Wi-Fi is. He points out I'm under witness protection and should be avoiding social media anyway. I guess he has a point. Being murdered would really cut my dreams short.
We make curry for dinner and sacrifice my pet mousse for dessert. Joon stays for tea before he heads out. I really enjoy our talk.
"Joon, I don't understand any of this. Who would kill my dad? He was so ordinary. Why would anyone bother? He wasn't bugging anyone."
"I can't rationalize murder, but we believe he was targeted because of his work to normalize wizarding life among muggles. Some consider the Harry Potter franchise part of a multitiered plan to expose the muggle world to magic. And that may be true but it really only started as a get rich quick scheme by a British journalist named Rita Skeeter."
I raise a sceptical eyebrow.
"Pen name J. K. Rowling," Joon finishes.
"Oh, fuck off," I giggle and shove his arm. "There's no way that's true. Why would she portray herself so negatively in her books then?"
"Don't ask me to understand that woman's mind," he turned serious. "There's been a backlash. No muggles in core or periphery nations haven't heard of Harry Potter, the poor bugger. It doesn't make sense to go after them. The wizards building the metaphorical bridge… fewer in number, more vulnerable. I don't know why you're being targeted though. No offense but you seem pretty clueless." He ruffles my hair and I try to smack his hand but hit air.
"Before I forget, here's your orientation package. There are classes and activities run to help keep you sane. You can find a schedule and map there. If you don't feel like cooking there's a cafeteria. You're smart you'll figure it out."
"I had a really nice day with you," I say.
"Me too," he smiles. "We should do this again. On a weekend though. Alright, any questions before I head?"
None come to mind.
"Perfect, I'll be off then. Good meeting you Sakura." He spins on his heel and is gone.
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