A/N: Happy Reading.

Somewhere, Scotland

The alleyways were like gaping holes in the wall; their own independently cramped biome of filth and muck that was home to vermin and vagabonds alike. There were dozens of them lining the streets like horizontal chasms between housing complexes that marred an already lackluster city. I'd go as far to call them backstreet hideaways for the scum that had the misfortune to crawl into them. It was as if we portkeyed somewhere else entirely instead of just taking a sharp right. Years of collective garbage squelching under my boots had me gagging before my first inhale. The subsequent and unfortunately necessary ones promised the reappearance of my breakfast. It wasn't much, half a bagel with water, but it was more than enough to add to the mess.

The dumpsters were overflowing and probably hadn't been emptied in months. I couldn't see more than a yard in front of me but it felt like things were there watching, waiting, and hoping I'd slip so they could drag me somewhere even more disturbingly familiar. I tried my best to hold my breath for thirty seconds at a time and not rub against the walls.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you die? All the good things, the bad things, and the everythings in-between? Well for some reason I felt like I had been in that state for days. Constantly. I figured it was my way of dealing with the present, sort of like the "If I close my eyes and cover my ears, this isn't happening." thing little kids and mental patients do. And then sometimes, I found myself counting. Just arbitrarily counting with no goal in mind. I wanted to occupy my brain long enough to forget the Bathildas, the Cedrics, and all the other bodies decaying somewhere because they were thoughtless enough to put their faith in me, their thoughtless "hero". Images of the bruises that wouldn't heal and the aching stomachs and the echo of my pitiful seven year-old humming, young and alone in the world, were also taking up space in my stream of consciousness that day. Was I sick for knowing that I'd rather been left in that cupboard, starving, than paid the kind of attention my dearest Uncle preferred? Was I sick for comparing my early life to an involuntary sentence in Azkaban? If it was truly so, I was sure my cupboard cell would have a sign outside that read: No dementors needed. No happiness to take.

"How ironic."

"What?" A voice whispered back. Hermione was crouched on the floor with a map propped up on her knees. She must've read it a thousand times by then but that didn't stop her from compulsively checking our location with every minute of downtime. For a second I wondered why her wand light was directed at me. Was I thinking out loud?

"Harry? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

I had to stop doing that. Letting things slip out, I mean. It already got me in enough trouble as it was. Dipping into the past was usually a big no but in all honestly, reliving yesteryears wasn't that bad sometimes. Enjoyable, even. Especially if I go for the fuzzy stuff, like my first broom ride or that second helping of treacle tart I usually get in the Great Hall. It used to be that when anything came up that I didn't want to see, all I had to do was shake my head and my mind would become a magic eight ball that produced a new memory with each vibration. The problem? Well, I think I broke it because the only things coming up in the last few hours were the things I wanted to avoid in the first place.

I felt something drip on my forehead. I was already scrubbing my skin raw with the sleeve of my shirt before I realized that it was only water coming from the overhanging wall. I was being ridiculous but I felt like creepy crawlers, the kind with hundreds of legs and an endless supply of slime, were making colonies along my skin. I thought maybe it was better after all if I couldn't see my surroundings. It'll spare me a few nightmares that night when I finally couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

Hermione folded the map, tucked it into her beaded bag, stood, and extended her wand. I followed its path to the steady stream of people obliviously walking past us.

"Ready?" She asked. She didn't wait for an answer before tossing my invisibility cloak at me but I nodded anyway, put it on, and braced myself. A few moments and confundus charms later I was pulling two dazed people by the collar of their coats. Hermione hit both with a stupefy and a concurrent moblicorpus to bring the unconscious bodies gently to the ground. She turned to recast the disillusionment charm on the mouth of the alley while I wiped my sweaty palms on my cloak and collected a few hairs in a plastic bag. The queasy feeling in my gut reminded me of breaking into the ministry a few months ago but whether it was okay to borrow someone's image for an hour or two wasn't debatable in that situation nor was it in this one. Use of magic in the presence of muggles was also an issue we couldn't dwell on. I just hoped we'd be out of there before someone came looking for us but there was hardly any more time to worry. Might as well get my clothes off.

"Wizards." She whispered when I was halfway through unbuttoning my shirt.

"What?" I whispered back. My fingers were fumbling with the third one button down. Again, she was crouched on the floor but this time going through the pockets of the unconscious duo at our feet.

"Wizards, Harry."

"I heard you the first time. Try complete sentences, will ya? You're always blabbing about grammar and the like so you'd think to-" The snarky words earned me an "Oh shut up and listen!" and a stinging hex that I barely avoided. I laughed noiselessly and rephrased. "Sorry, I meant I don't quite follow."

So I make unfunny quips when I feel edgy. Doesn't everyone?

"They're Ministry. Found that in his pockets." She tossed me to something. When I flipped it over in my hand I saw that it was a badge proclaiming "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures".

"Shit. What do we do?"

"Well we can't just toss 'em back into the streets, can we?" she said, yanking off her bottoms.

"No, but bloody hell. They must be crap at their jobs if we caught them." I was losing hope of undoing my last set of buttons. Why I didn't just pull the shirt over my head in the first place was a mystery. I did that and maneuvered into the overly starched white-collared one kindly donated by our captives. "How screwed are we?"

Her bushy brown hair popped out of the dress she was shimming into. "I don't know. Just hurry up."

I got to work on undoing my belt. The putrid air was tensed. The moment, strained. The locket felt heavy around my neck and thumped solidly against my chest. The coolness of it made me shudder and weigh the pros and cons of taking it off.

I grabbed the shoes she was handing over and tugged one on. The other had me hopping on one foot with a hand on the wall to steady myself.

We knocked out Mr. and Mrs. Reid, if the I.D. cards in their muggle wallets were anything to go by. Their clothing was muggle as well. I had no idea what they were doing in a city like this but the ensuing manhunt would put a chink in our plans if they had to be somewhere important. It was already too late, though. We had waited long enough and were running a few minutes behind schedule, a fact that Hermione wouldn't stop mentioning earlier.

Before stuffing my trousers into her ever-present beaded bag, I fished out a flash, yanked the cork out with my teeth, and spat it out. It hadn't so much as touched the mass of trash on the floor before a whispered half-shriek had me jumping out of my skin.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice chided. I can't say I wasn't expecting it. All right I wasn't, but if I had time to reflect on my actions, I would've. She picked up the piece of cork and dropped it into that all-consuming bag of hers. "Can't you be a little more careful about leaving traces?"

"Right, because two comatose bodies aren't dead giveaways." I muttered. I admit that I wasn't thinking as straight as I'd like but really, what were the odds of someone finding something so small in this rubbish heap? She shoved the rest of Mr. Reid's clothes in my arms. The roughness in the gesture wasn't missed but I didn't take the opportunity to initiate the well-overdue conversation I knew she was just itching to have. I convinced myself that the reason was the fact of being in a smelly alley in some Scottish metropolis. Honestly I just wasn't ready to face what she'd bring up.

I mixed a lone auburn hair in the flask and tipped my head back, swallowing the concoction twice to keep it down. My stomach was in knots but whether it was from our surroundings or the prospect of what was going to happen in a few hours, I couldn't tell. Hell, it might be the gunk I choked on a second ago. That potion never sat well with me. I don't think it sits well with anyone for that matter.

Going by the sounds of more rustling clothes, Hermione was done with her transformation. After donning a ridiculous amount of male accessories, so was I. I folded my glasses and placed them neatly in my coat pocket.

We nicked their wands and their cards. Their money too, while we were at it. Hermione protested at the last bit and I can't say I did it on good conscience but if we were leaving them in that sty they'd have no need for it anyway. I left a galleon near their tied hands in case they woke up before we got back to return their things, though I doubt they'd be able to undo the full-body bind wandlessly. Hermione casted a glamour charm for good measure in case someone happened upon them. What use to be two people appeared to be just a mundane segment of brick wall.

I looked over at her thinking we'd do something silly like wish ourselves luck but she adjusted her gloves and kept facing forward. Ha, we had to be the two most stubborn people in all of Europe.

A few minutes and several cleaning charms later we were out in the biting winter air. The sun's glare on the melting snow was so bright that I had to squint my eyes. I tried to follow the sound of Hermione's clicking heels until I adjusted but found that I could barely hear anything but my own thoughts. Naturally, noise pollution was the first thing I noticed. The rumbling of engines and honking car horns, yelling motorists, the chatter of early afternoon commuters as they talked on their cellphones. The cityscape around us was massive and even though one in four buildings appeared either abandoned or neglected, the place was thriving with life. Billboards and fervent vendors were around every corner trying to sell anything and everything to anyone and everyone who made eye contact. People came into view quickly and disappeared just as fast. I had to shoulder past them to keep pace.

Hermione bought a muggle paper from an outdoor newsstand, no doubt wanting to connect events in this world to the ones in ours. Her extensive collection of clippings was still on the desk back at the tent. She paid, flashing a set of pearly white teeth and making some lighthearted joke about taxes. She was dressed for a night on the town even though night was a good few hours away. The inky black hair she was sporting gleamed and bounded with every shift of her head, seemingly immune to winter's damaging effects. She looked straight at me with a puzzled look on her face. The thick, black makeup around her eyes drew me into her dark pupils. With her bright red coat and matching lipstick, she must've stood out against the crowd. I probably wasn't any better with my black suit and red tie. I was starting to wonder who Mr. and Mrs. Reid truly were and what business they could possibly have in a place like this. I caught up and we continued walking.

The previous idea was to have her a few steps ahead of me so that we looked like unrelated pedestrians. The fact that we had the faces of two people who were walking together in the first place prompted a change of plans. It'd be odd if someone recognized us from earlier so we were side by side, doing our combined best to nonchalantly mutter good afternoons to those who engaged us.

"Where to next?" I asked.

"Don't tell me you forgot already, Wonder Boy." She replied. My lips tugged upwards at the nickname even though she was most likely being sarcastic. I hadn't quite settled on one for her yet. It was a tie between Herms and Naggosaurus Rex.

"Humor me."

"The dock. It should be twelve blocks from here."

I had no idea how long a block was so I was going to suggest we take a bus. A series of those plus a few subways and boats was how we got there in the first place since neither of us had a clear enough idea of the location to just apparate there. I saw a stop just ahead and was sure she still had some pounds in that bag somewhere. While pondering this I bumped into her, jostling us both.

"Oi! Logan! Olivia!"

I started to turn towards the noise but Hermione grabbed my arm, stopping me halfway. From what I could gather, a man was briskly walking towards us. Nondescript brown suit. Middle-aged. Tie flapping in the wind. His voice was booming and could be heard even at our distance. He lacked the thick Scottish accent I'd been hearing all morning. He pushed through the crowd until he meet the boundary of a busy street. I was about to tell Hermione to keep walking but the man started waving his arms in wide arcs. I looked ahead of us. No one else seemed particularly interested in the spectacle he was making.

My hand was still in my pockets so, on a whim, I pulled out the wallet and looked at a laminated I.D. card. I saw the unsmiling picture of the man before I zoned in on the bold-faced name. Reid. Logan Reid. Fuck. Hermione reached the realization a split second before I did.

"I think it's us he's calling."

"Should we run?" I asked as I tucked the I.D away quickly and looked around for a quick escape route.

"No. Be natural."

She reached for my hand and squeezed it. As much as I'd like to be mad at her for being mad at me earlier, I couldn't deny the spark that made its way along my skin. I didn't feel any less flighty but I did feel a whole lot warmer.

A traffic light turned red. Hermione released me and I immediately shoved my hand into my pocket to wrap my fingers around the wand in there. It was oak and somewhere around ten inches. I regretted not trying it out earlier but was prepared to use it if things got dodgy.

"Where've you two been?" The man asked as he approached. Passersby glared at us for standing in their way. He had a name tag pinned to his lapel. It said Murray, if I was reading in right. My head was pounding. My tongue felt heavy. Who the hell wears a name tag?

"Sorry. We got a bit lost, is all." Hermione said. She tucked stray hair strands behind her ear.

"Yeah," I added nervously. I did my best to put on a sheepish grin. "Forgot our aliases for a second, too."

Hermione turned her head sharply and glowered at me. All right, maybe I shouldn't have said that last bit. I was ready for the scolding of my life right then and there but the man's deep-throated laughter cut her off.

"Excuses, excuses. I saw that hand holding back there." He winked and handed over two strips of paper. I didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or creeped out. I couldn't tell if Hermione was blushing under those heavily rouged cheeks.

Murray turned in the direction he came and continued walking, going on about one thing or the other.

"Well don't just stand there! Even on our salaries these tickets cost an arm and a leg so get a move on." He said, without turning around. After some hesitation, we followed a few steps behind. My mind was racing for a way out of whatever we just got ourselves into. The dementors floating around Azkaban feed from 2 to 4pm and Merlin only knew how long it would take to find the horcrux. I felt certain we were going to miss our window of time. We were so close to the North Sea I could practically smell it. On the other hand, I was hopelessly intrigued with what was going on.

"What should we do?" she whispered, yanking me from my thoughts. Ah, good question. Funny, one would think I should be asking her that.

"Don't know. Let's just follow him for now. This could be an interesting turn of events."

"Or a disaster waiting to happen."

"A little optimism never hurt anyone, right?"

"Right, because we've been handling disaster so well recently." Her heel jammed in a jagged sidewalk crack. I gripped her arm to steady her.

"My thoughts exactly."

Hermione shook her head, a smile gracing her lips. She fished in my pocket for her ticket.

"Le Cirque du Mystique?"

The words, which I recognized vaguely as French, were printed in big bold black letters and were surrounded by severe filigree. The ticket itself was a small rectangle, 1 by 4 inches probably, with jagged edges and a dotted line near the bottom. Both the back and front of it were designed with the typical red and white circus tent stripes. There were no show times, gimmicky slogans, moving pictures, or anything outlandish. Besides the name and stripes, the tickets were blank.

"The Mystic Circus. Or Circus of the Mystic, whichever way you spin it." She translated.

"Well, I could've guessed that…" The throng around us was thickening to the point that I couldn't walk a step without bumping into someone. I muttered an apology to a woman in a heavily sequined purple gown. She batted her hefty-looking false eyelashes and said something along the lines of "Think nothing of it, Dearie." Others dressed like her –dressed like us– were appearing more and more. If I didn't know any better I'd think we were going to some gala event. Why would all these people get so dolled up just to see some aerial stunts and animal tricks?

I was getting a funny feeling, the foreboding kind, that should've made me want to turn around and get as far from there as my legs could carry me. Instinct told me to ignore it and keep pushing forward through the crowd. Murray was still a ways ahead of us. I kept an eye on him. No wonder the Reids got lost in the first place because he hadn't turned around since he handed us the tickets.

"Have you got any extra polyjuice on you?" I whispered to Hermione. She nodded.

"Enough for three more hours. Why?" I was trying to work that out myself. Something was telling me we needed to be there. She leaned close to me. "I'm guessing you don't have an escape plan?"

"Escape? Who said anything about trying to escape?"

Everyone was squeezing into a large cinema with shattered glass windows and peeling paint. There was no shrubbery or any life at all besides the well-dressed people around us. Even odder was the idea that the building held anything more than rats and cobwebs.

There weren't any posters in the "Now Showing" boxes, but one of them did have blinking lights dancing around it.

My brow knotted. There was something not quite right and I was set on figuring out.

"Ticket, please." A woman said at the outdoor booth. She seemed overly cheery. Her smile was comically wide like it was wired in place. I slid the ticket under the Plexiglas barrier, hoping that my shaking hands didn't give me away. She didn't bother to look at it as she tore off the bottom, completely disregarding the dotted lines. She slid it back to me and I got a flash of that smile again. That funny feeling in my chest grew heavier. She gestured to the wall on her left. "Step right in and enjoy the show."