"Oh, this one's nice." Aidan sank into the recliner. "Yeah, this one's even better."
"No, I'm good here." Gwen was content to live the rest of her days on this display sofa, having roughly assumed the shape of a starfish.
"Would you two please get a move on?" Garrett begged. "We don't even need furniture."
"You sound like someone who's been vertical for too long."
"Yeah, you should try sitting, it's good for the feet."
Garrett was further mortified when a salesperson came over asking if they needed help. They had wandered into a section of this BHS where they arguably didn't belong and now neither she nor Aidan looked likely to escape. Was it their fault the furniture was marshmallow-soft with the gravitational pull of a small moon? No. But for some reason, he blamed them.
"I will leave you here."
They were eventually persuaded to move on. Not by Garrett's threats but by the pointed stares of the staff. They'd left the Thicket bright and early that morning and it was already past lunch. Aidan once again insisted on public transport to bring them to Muggle London — Gwen surprised herself with how quickly she stopped thinking of it as just plain London — and Garrett, carrying their one bag, was once again running low on patience.
At one point, he turned to her to enquire, only half-joking, "Tell me, oh wise oracle, what did I do to deserve this life?"
From Oxford Street, they meandered into Soho to visit Liberty's and other smaller boutiques. The objective of today's outing was to buy clothes and things to give the guest room some character; it looked like they could find everything they needed here and then some.
Conscious of spending someone else's money, Gwen's approach was to look at the price tags and go with the lowest number until Aidan cottoned on and insisted she didn't need to worry about that. Likewise, when she picked out the least offensive items, he questioned if she truly liked them.
What did it matter which lampshade she used? They all did the same job. When she chose the simple blue canvas one instead of the glass one with dragonfly mosaic, why should he care?
Gwen gradually confessed to preferring one thing over another if only to stop his relentless badgering.
She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Gingerly, she reached for a vintage style alarm clock instead of the plainer, cheaper clock that could tell the time just as well. When that failed to earn her any harsh words, she tried pushing her luck with a mirror framed with lights, and then a pair of bookends shaped like gargoyles, and then a decorative skull. That last one didn't even have a function. It didn't matter. Aidan pointed out when things might clash but otherwise kept encouraging her, and she found herself getting bolder with each item.
Maybe shopping wasn't so bad after all. For the first time ever, Gwen actually started to enjoy it.
It crossed her mind to wonder what her parents would make of her selections, and she felt her smile, the one she hadn't even noticed, die.
Despite the sheer amount they bought, everything was weightlessly tucked away in one enchanted bag. The Extension Charm, they called it. All spells had names like that: the Something Charm or the Whatever Jinx. They used it all throughout the house. It was the only thing keeping them from stepping on LEGO every two minutes.
"Don't tell anyone," they warned her. "It's illegal but everyone does it anyway. Just don't talk about it."
It was illegal, they explained, because of the risk of exposure. And it was practised, like littering, all the time.
Looking back on it, Gwen remembered Tup vanishing a number of cabinets and drawers in preparation for their magic-free New Year's Eve. (There were so many spells keeping the house running, the TV might have exploded.) Turning ordinary furniture into a TARDIS was one thing but vanishing them altogether? How? Did she send them into an alternate dimension?
She was about to ask Garrett when they came across another homeless person.
Between shops, Aidan gave money to every beggar he saw and now, having run out of change, he gave away his scarf. Not one boastful word came out of his mouth. Nor did Gwen sense his ego inflate so maybe she'd misjudged him before. He wasn't just doing it to make himself look or feel good.
There had to be some, she supposed. Among so many millions of humans, one or two must be genuinely nice.
Garrett, however, took the gesture as an insult.
"I gave you that scarf."
"No, you didn't."
"I most certainly did. I remember picking it out."
"You picked it out to make fun of it for being Stinksap-green but I really liked it so I bought it. You didn't talk to me for the rest of the day."
"You're a liar who throws away gifts, why would I want to talk to you?"
How two people could bicker over something so trivial for five solid minutes was beyond Gwen. It ended with Garrett buying a replacement from whichever clothing store they happened to be walking past.
"Tell me I never gave you a scarf," he muttered as he shoved the garment into Aidan's hands. "The nerve."
Garrett stormed off while Aidan donned his new, very yellow scarf and smiled to himself. A warm feeling emanated from him, adoring yet amused. Gwen didn't know what to make of it.
"You know how some people can't take compliments?"
"Sure." She was one of them.
"Well, some people — and by some people, I mean Slytherins — they can't do nice things. They get all awkward about it. It's adorable."
Focusing on Garrett's emotions, she found them much more straightforward.
"He just didn't want you getting cold."
For a fleeting moment, Gwen wanted to be loved like that some day. Then she remembered who and what they were, and could have slapped herself. She didn't want to be anything like them.
She fixed her thoughts on a different detail. Aidan described Garrett as a Slytherin. The word had come up in passing before, as had Pufflehuff or some such nonsense. These were Hogwarts Houses and they were stupidly important.
From what she'd gathered, all of wizarding Britain subscribed to the notion of Houses the way some Muggles put stock in the zodiac. Only wizards had it worse because they only believed in four types of people, not twelve, and your House could greatly impact your prospects in life. Gwen was a Capricorn and if she ever found a way back to Muggle society, her star sign would never come up in a job interview.
As fate would have it, with her mind on astrology, they happened upon a store that specialised in mysticism. Crammed full of candles and crystal balls and all sorts of feng shui mumbo and yin yang jumbo. Gwen had never been allowed in a shop like this before and she crossed the threshold feeling like she was skipping school or staying up past her bedtime.
"Oh, this is what I was talking about! No, look, they're not tarot cards. They're angel cards…"
Aidan's enthusiasm did not rub off on Garrett even one little bit the whole time they were there.
Towards the end of their visit, after a quick back and forth, they agreed to buy her what they called Muggle literature. Books they insisted would teach her nothing about magic and only confuse her studies. But these were the books she'd wanted since she first learned how to read. Her parents never permitted it, never even considered it. A title like Go With Your Gut: The Subtle Power of Claircognizance would have gone straight in the bin.
Gwen found herself clutching the stupid thing like it was precious. She told herself she was just being spoiled.
"You do realise those are written by charlatans?" Garrett belittled her chosen reading material. He smiled at the glowering shopkeeper, and then lowered his voice. "Anyone with real magic couldn't publish a book like that, not in the Muggle world. It's illegal."
Wizards were one law away from banning magic altogether, it seemed. And all for the sake of keeping Muggles in the dark.
"Amethyst has intuitive properties, doesn't it?" Aidan held up a shiny chunk of rock on the end of a chain. "And it's purple, your favourite."
"Of course you would indulge this nonsense," Garrett huffed. "Next you'll be picking out incense sticks."
Rationally, Garrett knew real magic versus Muggle cons. He was not like Papa in this instance. But the way his attitude needled Gwen was not rational. And she responded as she always did, with spite.
"Yes," she turned to Aidan. "It's good for psychics. I love amethyst."
She didn't care in the slightest about amethyst but Aidan smirked at Garrett like he'd won a crucial point. Garrett just sighed.
Something about this particular purchase must have sparked an idea because from that point on, Garrett wasn't content to stay in Muggle London. He suggested introducing her to a place called Diagon Alley and Aidan eventually agreed.
A roughly ten minute walk brought them to Charing Cross Road, and then Gwen was back in the Leaky Cauldron like no time had passed. She half expected to see Dumbledore waiting to reclaim her. It was all a terrible mistake, they'd tell him. But the old man wasn't there.
Aidan exchanged a few quick greetings here and there before they walked through a back door towards a dead end.
"You're sure we're not rushing her?" he asked quietly, clearly trying to keep his words from reaching her.
"Rushing her into what, being a witch? It's only Diagon Alley, for Merlin's sake. She can handle it."
So far, Diagon Alley was nothing more than an enclosed space big enough only for storing waste. Hardly traumatising if you ignored the smell. Stepping up to the wall straight ahead, Garrett tapped the brick two up, three across from the bin and the smell got worse. Stink bomb level worse. In his defence, he claimed, he'd never before used this entrance. Aidan corrected him; the brick they needed was three up, two across. When the wall opened up into an archway, they hastened across the threshold to escape the stench.
For Gwen, this was an act of jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.
Diagon Alley was a Victorian style cobblestone street lined on either side with shops that looked ready to blow away in the next storm. It was far from bustling on this Tuesday afternoon in January but there were people about. They didn't mosey. They darted between shops with the determined steps of those who wanted to get what they came for and get out of the cold.
"This'll be where we get all your school supplies," Aidan told her as they sauntered past window displays of cauldrons and stationery. "We don't need to worry about that yet. For now, you can just take it in."
Take it in, sure.
When agents came to clean up her mess and then took her to the Ministry, Gwen felt sick long before she got there. She imagined herself strapped to a table while stone-faced men in lab coats cut her open. She pictured it so vividly, she convinced herself it was a vision. Gripped with blind panic, she threw herself over and over against the walls until they managed to pour a mint flavoured sedative down her throat. The rest of her time there was a groggy haze.
All in all, Gwen hadn't noticed the atmosphere of the place.
Then Dumbledore took her to the Leaky Cauldron where several people offered to give up their room to the apparently-famous wizard. A hot bath usually worked wonders for her senses. As she soaked, she tried looking into her own future. She hoped to see her parents, foolish as that was. She expected to see the green door again. A flash of it, at least. But no. Beyond sleeping the next few nights above a pub — for which Dumbledore or some other patron had already paid — she saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. The fit that took hold of her that night had her seized up and gasping for air worse than the ones that came each morning since.
So again, she didn't differentiate her own symptoms from those of the place itself.
Then Garrett and Aidan had that Christmas party and the house was full of wizardkind and Gwen noticed it at last. Magic. Enough of it in one place set the air on fire.
It started in her skin. A prickling somewhere between pins and needles and being watched. Then it seeped in through her pores and burned like unspent adrenaline in her muscles. It stiffened her while urging her to run.
Instinct had her holding her breath as she walked deeper into the alley. Hardly a long-term solution; she had to breathe sometime. Bracing herself, she took the smallest inhale she could and nearly passed out.
Once it got in her lungs, it got in her bloodstream and her brain. All at once it threw off the rhythm of her heartbeat and set her head spinning. She held her breath again and fought desperately not to sway.
As the air crackled around and through her, Gwen vividly recalled pressing a battery to her tongue when she was little. (Littler.) She'd forgotten all about that but this brought it back. This felt the way batteries taste.
Her vision blurred. Squeezing her eyes shut seemed to make everything louder. She could smell paper and jelly beans and new shoes and wood. All of it so intense, she feared she might vomit.
Being back in the Leaky Cauldron just a few minutes ago provoked a similar feeling but she hadn't thought much of it. That was nothing compared to this.
If this was the same effect a magical atmosphere had on electrical devices, and they exploded, what would happen to her?
"Are you OK?" Aidan asked, studying her worriedly. "If it's too much, we can—"
"I'm fine. Stop treating me like a kicked puppy."
Gwen marched ahead, ignoring the sting in Aidan's heart and the very air that tried to electrocute her.
Her feet made a beeline for a teashop before she realised where she was going. She wasn't sure if they served tea or just sold it but she was hoping to get a cup of chamomile. It was the one thing her parents ever indulged and the one thing that ever remotely helped. Not that she held out much hope for that right now.
She waded through the magic like a swarm of gnats. Mutant firefly-gnats searing her skin, getting in her eyes and ears and nostrils, biting at her. She pushed back. She put up another wall inside and blocked it all out.
A cup of tea could hardly help. But it wouldn't hurt.
Keeping his distance, Aidan was still hurt and fretting even as they placed their order.
"What am I doing wrong?" he whispered. "Am I smothering her?"
"Yes," Garrett answered bluntly but kept his voice down. "It's alright. Just give her some space. She's tougher than you're giving her credit."
"She shouldn't need to be tough, that's my point. After what she's been through…"
Gwen tuned them out. She took one methodical sip after another and closed herself off to the world around her. By the time she reached the bottom of her cup, she managed a detached sort of numbness.
They left the teashop and this time, Gwen was able to observe how the people here were dressed. They looked like idiots.
If a children's party was taking place nearby and the theme was wizard, they'd all fit right in. Pointed hats and cloaks everywhere, along with a number of knee-length beards. One man's robes actually had stars on them.
"Seriously?" she heard herself ask.
Both Garrett and Aidan tried to make sense of the question so they could answer but she thought better of it. Making fun of this world was probably a good way to get kicked out, and then what?
Surrounded by wizardkind, Gwen expected them to somehow detect her Muggle blood and take issue with it. Trespassing with every step, she kept waiting for someone to tell her to leave.
Her pulse steadily returned to normal as they entered a bookshop, then a junk shop, then a shop selling magical broomsticks, each one charmed to stay pleasantly warm. Gwen took off her hat, scarf, and gloves — all new that very day; she'd left the Thicket wearing Aidan's clothes and seized the first opportunity to change — and didn't bother putting them back on as they went from one store and the next.
Some of the shops struck her as being weird for the sake of it. Who needed to buy leeches? Or plants with tentacles? Or a haunted mirror? A haunted anything, for that matter.
"Remember, we still need to pick out something special for your birthday," Aidan reminded her. Again.
"We really don't."
Gwen had expected him to drop the issue. They'd already missed that stupid day, why wouldn't he let it go?
"He won't let it go." Suddenly Garrett was the mind-reader. "Best just surrender quietly to your fate."
"If you'd prefer to go somewhere, you know, do something special rather than have a particular gift, we can do that instead."
"Alton Towers," she threw out the first thing that came to mind. She'd spent most of her life outside the UK with a mother who hated theme parks so of course she'd never been. Not even when she asked nicely.
"Sure thing. That sounds like a lot of fun," Aidan agreed readily. "Although, I think the rides might be closed this time of year but we can go once they open."
Gwen was stumped. "Wait, really?"
"Of course. As long as you enjoy it, that's what birthdays are for."
Why in the name of decent behaviour did she feel the urge to hug him? Something inside her was trying to latch onto him and she smothered it. She rationalised it. You just have attachment issues now that you're an orphan. Get over it.
"I'd get bored spending a whole day there," she said dismissively. "Waste of time."
Like all their conversations, this one died awkwardly and they moved from shop to shop in silence. Then without warning, Aidan dragged them into a place called Sugarplum's, intent on buying her magical sweets while Garrett quietly warned him not to spoil her.
"It's a box of Chocolate Frogs, not a unicorn. I think we're OK."
"We already indulged her getting those absurd books."
"Coming here was your idea. So she can be a real witch, remember? What's the point if we don't buy her witchy things?"
Garrett's only counterargument was that if they must buy her sweets, she had to try Cockroach Clusters.
"But I can already taste them," she said as she wrapped a bare hand around the bag.
"I don't care. It's the principle of the thing."
Gwen found herself looking to Aidan to rescue her. He smiled sympathetically.
"You don't have to but you should. All the other kids at school will have tried them. It's sort of a rite of passage. Here, I'll eat one with you."
Once, during the short time Gwen lived on Ascension Island, all the military brats dared each other to eat a live scorpion. This wasn't as bad as all that but it still wasn't pleasant. She groaned as she clawed pieces of legs and wings from between her teeth.
"How is it so dry and sticky at the same time?"
Aidan didn't seem impressed, either. "They have better ones at Honeydukes."
To wash out the taste, they opened a couple of Chocolate Frogs now rather than wait till they got home. Garrett politely declined. Gwen's frog managed to catch her by surprise, hopping right onto her face before falling limply to the ground. Aidan gave her his frog and focused on something else inside the box.
"Celestina Warbeck," he announced. "Your favourite."
"That reminds me, I need to pick up a few things for a deafening potion."
Gwen reached out for the card in Aidan's hand. Her fingers barely brushed the edge and she heard, as if from a distance, a soulful voice belting an upbeat tune. She snatched her hand back.
In her own box, she found a similar card. This one detailed the achievements of one Hengist of Woodcroft who founded an all-wizarding village after being driven from his home by Muggles. Gwen got the distinct impression he never meant to build a village; he only wanted to be left alone.
She slipped the card into her pocket.
As they wandered near a narrow, shadowy archway, a chill ran down her spine. She came to a halt and stared into those shadows. Strange as it was, she got the feeling something was calling to her. Waiting for her specifically.
The instant she opened up her senses to get a better idea of whatever was going on, the magic of Diagon Alley rushed back in. She doubled over, quite possibly about to throw up, and blocked it all out again before her nerves fried.
The next thing she was aware of — extremely aware — was Aidan's hand on her back.
"Gwen, are you alright?" His tone suggested he'd asked that question already. Yet he didn't sound fed up with her. He sounded worried. That was new.
"I'm fine." She jerked away from him and turned her attention back to the archway. "What's down there?"
Once they registered what she meant, both men tensed up. Aidan, as usual, looked like he wanted to avoid the question and even Garrett hesitated to answer.
"Knockturn Alley," he said at last. "We don't go there."
The longer Gwen focused on the archway, the stronger and more certain the feeling grew. It wasn't simply a call. It was a cry for help.
"We kind of have to."
"What is it?" Aidan the Good Samaritan asked, worried. "What do you see?"
"I don't see anything, I just know there's someone down there who's in trouble."
"Yes, well, that's most of the people down there." Garrett started pushing her along. "It's none of our business."
Aidan didn't follow. "What kind of trouble?"
Garrett didn't give her a chance to elaborate.
"No. Absolutely not. We are not making a habit of chasing down every werewolf, Lethifold, or run-of-the-mill crook she happens upon. We'll end up dying tragically and they'll turn us into one of those television movies you love so much."
"The ones you pretend not to like? Wicked. Now, back to the point…"
They argued over their moral obligation versus the merits of calling in something called an Auror while Gwen wondered what a Lethifold was supposed to be. In the end, Aidan won the debate. As usual.
"Can you see anything that might tell us where it happens? Shop signs, anything?"
He was insistent on going alone while Garrett stayed with her. Garrett, though, wanted to leave her in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, just two doors down, while he accompanied Aidan into dangerous territory.
It was all moot. She couldn't direct them where to go based on what she felt. She had to lead the way.
Sandwiched between them, Gwen was the only one who didn't need to duck beneath the archway. They ventured into Knockturn Alley and the day, predictably, went downhill from there.
The atmosphere here was even worse than Diagon Alley. Not in the sense that it was more intense, but it had a different quality to it. Warmer, almost comforting. Thick and sweet as molasses, luring prey into this tar pit.
It was a delicate and difficult balancing act to close herself off almost entirely while still feeling out the one thing she was looking for. Precision was not a skill she'd ever had to practice before. She kept letting in too much or too little. Either her stomach churned as she followed the trail or she lost it and had no clue which way to turn.
She paused in front of a toy shop to catch her breath and clear her head. In the window, a marionette waved at her without anyone pulling its strings. It had a big toothy grin and hunger in its eyes.
She kind of wanted one.
"Get your hood up," Aidan urged even as he took it upon himself to do it for her.
"Never mind getting mugged. If anyone sees us here, they'll think we're selling her hair," Garrett said in a disgusted tone.
"My hair? Why?"
Aidan merely grimaced as he determinedly tucked away every last strand.
When they got back to the house later that day, Gwen sat through an hour-long lecture about Polyjuice Potion, the illegality of its use, identity theft, sex work, and the cops.
"Of course, Aurors use it all the time," Garrett huffed. "The typical 'it's OK when we do it' attitude."
When he got to the part about not-technically-child molesters, Aidan cut him off. The subject was getting too grim for her poor little girl ears.
Carrying on through the alley, Gwen paused at another intersection before instinct pulled her to the left. Her wizard escort followed close behind.
The people here were dressed far more shabbily and with decidedly less whimsy than those in Diagon Alley. Quite a few, from the look and the smell of them, hadn't bathed in some time. And as they sneered at them, it was clear they'd not been to a dentist, either. Possibly ever.
Aidan's charity didn't extend to these people and none of them bothered asking for change.
"I knew we should have sent this home earlier." Garrett raised the shopping bag for emphasis as they passed a dingy post office, reeking of bird droppings. "The owls here are trained thieves."
"As long as the three of us get out of this in one piece, I really don't care about the stuff."
"It's not the stuff I'm worried about, it's using my wand! And also the stuff."
Gwen didn't agree out loud but her book on claircognizance was buried somewhere in that bag and she didn't want to lose it.
Please let me go.
The words drifted past her, soundless and timeless. It was as much a concept as a spoken plea, and it had been said, thought, and felt for a while.
Drawn around another corner, she came upon a sore thumb of an establishment sticking out between the shops. Wands Out, read the obnoxiously pink sign. It was lined with literal fairy lights; the tiny bug-people snoozed inside sconces shaped like rosebuds. The only subdued thing about this place was that it was closed.
"In there?" Aidan asked, sounding surprised.
Gwen realised she'd stopped dead in her tracks and was staring at the building in question.
"No, it just stands out, that's all." It was more than that. Whatever this place was, it evoked a nostalgic familiarity. She turned to them, heavy with the weight of their history. "I thought you said you don't come here?"
Both men avoided her gaze and cleared their throats.
"Well, there's nothing dark artsy going on in there. It's just a nightclub."
"For people like you?"
Garrett tensed up and even Aidan, shifting his weight, looked uncomfortable.
"They wouldn't let them open it in Diagon Alley."
None of them wanted to carry on with that conversation so they carried on through the alley instead. Some shops appeared less nefarious than others but none of them seemed terribly welcoming. One place even had a guard dog twice her size, snarling at anyone who got too close. Its teeth looked like they belonged in the mouth of a shark.
In the gutter outside a nondescript building, there hunched the skin and bones of a woman. She might have been mistaken for a corpse. Her eyes were the only part of her with any life in them. Wide as saucers and glowing like nuclear waste. She gawked at them in wonder.
"Potions," Garrett explained soberly.
A little ways down the alley, someone was lurking in the shadows. They tried to act like they hadn't noticed anyone approaching and just happened to start walking the opposite way. As the figure, a man, drew near, he broke into a run. Passing them on Aidan's side, he reached out to snatch a chunk of hair on the way. Aidan grabbed his wrist with one hand and punched him with the other. The man hit the ground hard.
"Now go home and think about what you've done." Aidan rubbed his knuckles and kept walking.
They got into a discussion about using violence to solve problems because, according to them, it was never the answer except for when it was, and she must never resort to such behaviour except for when she should, and they would be bitterly disappointed in her but also kind of proud. They were still talking as they rounded the final bend.
Please let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear.
"It's a kidnapping," she told them. "I think."
"Otherwise known as a crime," Garrett said dryly. "Still not clear on when this became our job."
"Are they close by?" Aidan asked her.
Gwen's feet brought her to what appeared to be a disused tavern. The sign so faded, the name was illegible. Yet the image of a dragon endured. The windows were boarded up and the door had clearly been bolted shut once upon a time. She pressed a hand to it.
A woman's face burst into view in her mind and brought with it a sense of danger. No shit, Gwen thought as she rolled her eyes. The impression of masculine energy was several times stronger than the feminine. This woman was surrounded by men.
"This is the place?" Aidan wanted to confirm.
She nodded.
"Alright. You get Gwen out of here. I'll deal with this and meet you back at the entrance."
"Not a chance. You're not going in there by yourself."
"There's a whole gang of them," she warned.
"Define gang."
"I don't know, four? Six. Ish."
"That's not a number."
"She's doing fractions," Garrett said in an oddly encouraging tone.
"You don't count people in fractions! That's ableist," Aidan chided.
"Again with that stuff, really? Right now?"
Gwen sighed and barged through the door. They rushed in after her. Rats scattered at the intrusion but there were no other immediate signs of movement.
"What are you doing?" Garrett hissed as grabbed her.
"What my powers tell me to." Gwen wrenched her arm from his grip and took in her surroundings.
As expected, the room was filled with tables and chairs, and a bar on the far end. All of it utterly blanketed in dust. Not one corner was free of cobwebs. And there was the distinct stench of years' worth of spilled ale having seeped into the now-rotting wood.
There wasn't a single person in sight.
"They're upstairs and they know we're here," she told them and made for the stairs.
She didn't even make it halfway.
"Would you stop?" Garrett grabbed her again. Dust fell from the ceiling as footsteps thudded above. "Charging into danger. This is ridiculous. We need to leave."
"It's not that dangerous, P—"
It was fairly dangerous and she knew she was being dumb. There was just something in his eagerness to ignore her gift. Worse still, his demand that she do the same. She had to cut herself off almost calling him Papa.
"You said there's a gang!"
"Did I forget to mention you're going to win? You're going to win."
"Is that so?" a new voice filled the room. A man sauntered down the stairs, cool as cucumber even as the scene of his crime was uncovered. "And what makes you so sure of that?"
Gwen shrugged. "Just am."
A sharp tug at her collar and she found herself shoved behind Garrett and Aidan, both of them shielding her. She could still catch glimpses of the man.
Neither tall nor well-built, his body didn't make for an imposing presence. His eyes, though, were sharp and calculating. And he wore the smirk of a man who'd already won by staying two steps ahead.
The sight of him brought to mind the image of a turban. That guy again. Or rather, those guys. Fantastic.
Behind them, the front door opened and in walked three other men. There was no hint of surprise; this was coordinated. They must have gone out the back while this one held their attention. Now the exit was blocked.
"Let's everyone keep their wands where we can't see them, eh?" the first man spoke magnanimously as the others circled them.
Two of them might have been brothers, judging not just by their resemblance but by the way they fell into step side by side. The third was clearly the muscle. His neck was thicker than the width of Gwen's shoulders. All their eyes sparkled with amusement.
"They look lost," one of them jeered.
"They do, don't they? Poor blighters must have wandered over from Diagon Alley by mistake. Well, as you can see, this once fine establishment has run somewhat dry." The apparent leader of the group held out his arms for emphasis. "So what is it you want?"
"We heard there's someone else here," Aidan ventured. "Someone who probably wants to leave."
"And that would be your business how, exactly?"
Good question, Garrett might not have said it but he thought it loudly. Gwen resisted giving him the side-eye.
"What kind of Aurors bring a kid along for the ride?"
Rhetorical or not, the question caused the leader to fix his attention on Gwen. He studied her for a short, contemplative moment before reaching a decision.
"You two gentlemen can be on your way," he addressed Garrett and Aidan. "The little ones always fetch a good price. Enough to buy your way out of here unscathed."
Gwen felt a spike of fury. Not her own, though. It was a little too righteous for her. But certainly someone in this room did not like what they just heard.
Garrett sighed and muttered, "Now you've done it."
"Petrificus Totalus!" Aidan pointed a finger at the leader whose body proceeded to lock up and fall down like a tree.
The others went on the attack.
"Hold this." Garrett handed Gwen the bag containing all her new things then pulled out a long, perfectly straight stick as black as his hair. A magic wand.
He tapped her on the head with it and a revolting sensation slid over her, from her crown right down to her toes. Then he joined the fray.
Aidan had raised a barrier of tables and chairs around them. These took the brunt of the explosive magic hurled at him and left in their wake a cloud of splinters. He blew at it. The cloud swept over the probably-brothers. Got one of them right in the eye.
That just made them angrier and their spells more vicious.
The muscle, apparently lacking in magical skill, took the physical approach. He charged in with a war cry in his throat and fists at the ready. A dismissive wave from Aidan sent him flying across the room, flipping through the air before landing on his face with a sickening crunch.
Garrett appeared to be blocking the spells being fired at them, fiercely protecting both himself and his…husband. Gwen shook it off; now was not the time to be sick. Meanwhile, Aidan raised both his hands and rapidly crossed them, causing the remaining two men to crash sideways into each other.
It occurred to Gwen that Garrett was using a wand whereas Aidan didn't. Perhaps it was the wizard equivalent of a walking stick and Garrett needed the help. But their opponents had been using wands, too, so maybe Aidan was the odd one out?
She couldn't remember if the Ministry agents used wands to fix her parents. She tried not to remember that day.
Ropes materialised out of the thin air as Garrett magically tied up the men and gagged them for good measure. Another one of their friends chose that moment to race down the stairs.
Aidan cried, "Expelliarmus!" right as Garrett aimed at the stairs themselves, transforming them into a slide. The man's wand flying out his hand as his feet slipped out from under him was positively slapstick.
The stolen wand landed in Aidan's hand but he didn't bother using it to lift the floorboards at the foot of the slide. The man plummeted straight down the hole and the moment he vanished from sight, the boards settled back into place. Garrett pointed his own wand at the door that presumably led to the basement and it, too, vanished, leaving behind solid wall.
Silence fell only to be broken by a sharp snap. Aidan tossed aside two pieces of wood.
"You could have given that to Gwen," Garrett's suggestion earned him a grimace.
"That's disgusting."
"She's unarmed. Be reasonable."
"We'll get her a clean wand when the time comes." Aidan turned towards her and his eyes widened with panic. His gaze darted around frantically as if searching for something. "Where is she?"
This brought Gwen's attention to the fact she was camouflaged. Looking down at her feet, she saw the floor, complete with old blood stains and knots in the wood. When she inched one foot to the side, its appearance morphed in accordance with the pattern beneath. The distortion created by the shape of her shoes was nearly imperceptible.
Garrett squinted to pinpoint where she stood and waved his wand at her. That strange, gungy sensation washed over her again as the magic fell away. At the sight of her, Aidan breathed a sigh of relief.
"I have to say, you two are quite boring most of the time but that was pretty wild."
Aidan took the compliment with a huge grin while Garrett shook his head impatiently.
"Are there any others?" he asked.
Gwen focused on the top of what used to be stairs and knew, "One more."
The stairs returned to their original state and the three of them climbed. The rooms upstairs were uncomfortably small and suffering from the same disrepair as the rest of the building. Each one was empty until they reached the one at the end of the corridor.
Inside, they found a trembling woman and one final kidnapper standing guard. He took one look at them and then, with the sound of gunshot, disappeared.
"Oh, look, he left. Like a sensible person. Here I thought I was the last of my kind."
Gwen sensed the danger hadn't passed yet.
"He might come back," she suggested dubiously. That didn't sound right to her ears.
"If he was setting up an ambush, why reveal himself beforehand?"
Neither wizard made a move to stop the hostage as she crept closer. They never suspected a threat from her.
Gwen's entire being screamed DANGER a split second before the woman lunged at her, brandishing a knife. A mix of reflexes and instinct raised her arms. The shopping bag she forgot she was holding served as a makeshift shield. Just in time.
The woman swiped at her throat and cut the bag instead. With the Extension Charm ruptured, the contents poured out in such quantity with such force it pushed both of them backwards. As the woman lost her footing, she threw the knife. What Gwen assumed was the handle hit her like a punch to the shoulder.
An invisible force yanked Gwen straight into Aidan's arms. He clung to her tightly while Garrett, wand raised, pinned the woman against a wall. It was only when she felt Aidan applying pressure to her shoulder that Gwen realised she was injured. She'd been stabbed.
"That is no way to say thank you." Garrett was fuming. He kept himself outwardly calm but he was seething underneath and it seemed as though the whole room grew hotter. Maybe it did. Maybe it wasn't just Gwen picking up on it. Tup had warned her about uncontrolled bursts of magic. A wizard's anger could have dangerous effects.
"It wasn't her," Gwen hurried to tell them both. She barely understood her own meaning. "It wasn't her."
"The Imperius Curse," Aidan concluded, still refusing to loosen his grip on her even as she tried to wriggle free. His touch was worse than the blade's. His fear for her poured in, mingling with her revulsion until she wasn't sure what she was feeling.
"Typical."
Garrett tied the woman up the same way he did the men downstairs.
Gwen finally broke loose and stepped on the knife Aidan must have pulled out of her. She didn't even know when he did that. It was only small, the blade was maybe three inches long. But it was glistening red.
"She's hurt." It was barely above a whisper but the pain and panic in Aidan's voice was crushing.
"How bad is it?" Garrett asked. "Let me see."
"I'm fine." Gwen stepped back, away from them both. She didn't want to be touched or coddled. The prospect made her skin crawl. She couldn't look at either of them so she focused on the mess on the floor. It was everywhere; jeans, T-shirts, her new mug now broken, the bedsheets, the shoes. Then she noticed something that put a lump in her throat. "My book got squished."
With a flick of his wand, Garrett repaired the book's broken spine and crumpled pages with magic because that was something wizards could do.
"Oh, yeah."
By this point, the woman was babbling. Most of it was hysterical gibberish but one question kept coming through. What is happening? What is happening? Over and over. It seemed whatever the kidnappers had done to her had bent her reality out of shape. Until it became clear that the cause of her distress was magic.
"A Muggle," Aidan breathed, stunned.
"We need to alert the Ministry," Garrett spoke with urgency. "They'll alter her memories. And they can figure out where she came from. They'll get her home. Now can we talk about the tragic death that almost happened? I told you—"
"Why would wizards kidnap a Muggle?"
To use as bait, Gwen thought as she applied more pressure to her wound. She watched blood seep through her fingers. And to send a message.