Chapter 2
Chapter 1: Mission Disrupted
Howl was feeling rather proud with himself.
He had accomplished his mission without any (major) complications. He had had the foresight to grab a coat, which he had now donned as it was rather chilly. And, best of all, he had roughly twelve hours of utter freedom which he could spend however he wished.
And the first thing he wished to do was acquire some breakfast.
He had decided against eating before leaving for it would waste too much valuable time, not to mention that Sophie had insisted the night before that he would be doing the cooking today. And cooking on what was meant to be his Day of Freedom would really defeat the purpose having such day in the first place. Surely Sophie would understand that. And even if she didn’t, well, twelve hours would perhaps cool a little of her temper. Hopefully.
Howl stepped out of the way of a couple of old women and tipped his hat to them, not bothering to take offense at the suspicious looks the act earned him. No one knew him in London and that was just one of the many reasons why he had chosen that particular city to spend the day in.
As much as he loved Wales, he did not love being hounded by Megan, nor was he too fond of the gossip that was sure to pop up if he was seen in town without his wife and child. London was far enough away for him to be free of that, while not distant enough for the culture to be entirely alien. There was also the fact that he had always wanted to visit the city to see if—
“Oomph!”
“Watch where you’re going!” An annoyed looking, suit-clad man snarled at him, jerking his suitcase away.
Howl ruefully rubbed his stomach which had born the blunt of the collision. Suitcase corners were unexpectedly sharp. The collision had not been his fault though, the man had been far too busy chatting on one of those fancy new hand phones Neil was always begging for to notice where he had been going. The man seemed ready to start an argument but Howl really did not wish to start his Day of Liberty in such a manner.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, tipping his hat and deftly stepping out of the way. “It was entirely my fault. I wish you well on your future endeavors.”
The businessman’s eyes narrowed. “You a foreigner or something?” he snapped before stomping away.
Howl smiled smugly before continuing on his way as well. And thus, another crisis diverted by the wonderful Pendragon, and there had been no need for him to be brave at all. As Neil always said, if you can’t beat ‘em, then freak ‘em out. Or run away, it that failed.
Feeling more pleased with himself then was probably necessary, he continued down the sidewalk intending to enjoy his Day of Independence. He had no wish to end up like that poor man, who clearly had not had a Day of Freedom for a long while. No, Days of Emancipation were quite important, as was breakfast, something his growling, and bruised, stomach was staunchly reminding him.
As he waited for the crossing light to signal it was safe to step onto the concrete and tar road, Howl surveyed his surroundings. He had arrived at this part of London through the creaky doors of an ancient, out-of-business clothing shop. Due to the early hour of his arrival, there had very few around to ponder exactly what a fancy dressed man had been doing in a supposedly abandoned building, which suited him just fine.
Another reason he had chosen this area was because of its huge variety of shops and restaurants which lined the streets. He’d also heard that were a few rather good pubs around, but he would be the judge of that. The red light switched over to the universal signal for walk, and Howl obediently crossed the street, all the while searching for a good place to eat.
To his immense disappointment, the main source of nourishment in this area seemed to derive primarily from fast food restaurants. Greasy, fattening, salty fast food. Howl shuddered. He wasn’t even going to consider entering such a place. He would rather starve to death, though he really did hope it wouldn’t come to that. He could not understand what made people think fast food was, well, food.
Unfortunately, ruling out fast food chains eliminated nearly all of his perspective choices for a morning meal. He gave a relatively crowded hamburger restaurant a distrustful look as he walked by. How…unappetizing. His stomach gave another growl which was barely heard through the hubbub that had grown over past half hour. London was waking up, and it wasn’t doing it quietly.
There were a noticeably larger number of people on the streets now. Either that or the streets had shrunk considerably. Howl winced as a flustered mother drove a baby stroller over his foot and continued on without even offering an apology. Really, he could understand how little children needed constant attention and all that, but there was no need to ignore such a fine specimen as himself, much less crush his foot. He needed that foot to get home with. Sophie would probably not be too happy to have a one-footed husband. “Half-Halter Howl”, they would call him.
He limped, rather heroically if he may add, to the bookstore at his right, where he was temporarily safe from the dangers of any more potential amputations. Sadly, the public was far too busy with their own affairs to notice his gallant pains. Howl found some consolation in the fact that they were also too busy to try to rid him of his other foot as well.
The wizard leaned against the glass of the bookstore, intent on taking a little break before resuming his search for provisions. As he rubbed his pained stomach soothingly, his gaze fell on the shop next door.
At first, he thought that he had noticed it because of just how completely out of place the shop, no pub he realized as he got a closer look, looked next to the modern architecture of the bookstore and the other buildings lining the street. It was tiny, and rather grubby looking, not the ideal place for one to eat a meal. His eyes fell on the rather decayed sign, proclaiming the place as the Leaky Cauldron. Odd name for a pub. Even odder when one considered the fact that cauldrons had not been used in this world since Medieval Times.
And the longer he stared at the place, more oddities arose. No one appeared to be giving the pub a second glance. Actually, they all failed to even give it a first glance. Their eyes slid from the record store on the other side of the pub, right onto the bookstore, not even noticing the tiny pub in between. It was as though, in their eyes, that pub did not exist. That pub which, he realized abruptly, reeked of magic.
Howl raised an eyebrow, studying the Leaky Cauldron. So, the rumors were true. A magical pub right in the middle of a nonmagical town that was composed largely of nonmagical citizens. An amused smile played on the corner of his lips. The third and main reason behind his trip to London had just been fulfilled.
Word of a magical community hidden away had reached his ears many years ago, but he had not had the opportunity, or excuse, to find just how much truth lay behind the talk. But now, on his wonderful Day of Free Will, he had all the free time in the world. Okay, more like eleven hours of free time, but that was still long enough to explore to his heart’s content.
Straightening up, he deftly slipped through the wooden doors of the pub. He half expected to hear shouts of astonishment about a man disappearing into thin air, and was faintly let down when it did not occur. Oh well, he could always astound these little British magicians with his superb magic.
A frown appeared on his face as he discovered that the Leaky Cauldron was rather similar to its namesake. Small, dark, and shabby. Howl had half a mind to immediately turn around, but a whiff of something spectacular laid rest to his misgivings. He would get something to eat, observe a little, and then get out, he decided.
“May I help you?” said the bartender, interrupting Howl’s thoughts.
He turned his attention onto the man who was watching him with rather suspicious eyes, a glass mug gripped tightly in one hand. Howl plastered his warmest, friendliest smile on his face (the one Sophie claimed made him look like a child begging for desert before dinner) before answering.
“Good day, kind sir,” Howl said, noting with a bit of smugness that the smile seemed to have done its job. The bartender no longer looked ready to run in the opposite direction at the slightest hint of danger. Take that Sophie. Though he did wonder why the man would choose a profession as a bartender when he was so shy. “I presume from that heavenly smell, that you sell food here yes?”
The man looked slightly embarrassed, but was noticeably pleased by the flattery. “Oh, it’s nothing fancy,” he insisted. “Just a bit of broth and biscuits we’re making.”
“Either way, I would love to have some.” Howl said, taking off his hat, and taking a seat.
“Coming right up then.” The man waved a stick, a wand Howl amended mentally, and a piece of paper made its journey to the back room, the eyes of an infamous wizard locked upon it. So the people here needed wands to harness their magic, hmm?
Twirling his hat absently in one hand, Howl subtly took note of the other occupants of the pub. It was fairly empty, disappointingly. Just a tiny, veiled woman in one corner, and a pair of men in robes, arguing about something called ‘kuiditch’, if he was hearing correctly. Heavens know what ‘kuiditch’ was, it sounded like an ailment to him. All in all, Howl was rather let down with the lack of magic users in the vicinity. He had been hoping for more subjects to observe and compare to his noble self.
“Here you go.” A bowl of thick brown soup dropped in front of him, soon followed by a plate piled with biscuits. Howl’s mouth immediately began to water at the sight. It was about time he got something to eat, any longer and he would have fainted. Or perhaps not, he thought, recalling the rather filthy floors of the pub.
“Thank you, my good man!” Howl said, digging into the food enthusiastically. The bartender smiled and returned to his task of cleaning the glass mugs.
He ate until his hunger was satiated to a tolerable level before leaning back and letting out a deep breath. Time to make small talk and see what he could learn. Howl was justifiably curious about the magic of his home world having been born and bred there without ever being aware of its existence. He had to know just how he had managed to overlook it, and how they had overlooked him.
“That was the second best broth that I have ever tasted.” He complimented the bartender.
“Who made the first?” the man asked curiously.
“My wife.” Howl smiled. Though he did not admit it often out loud, Sophie was a darn good cook. Anyone who could force Calcifer to cook bacon without burning it to a crisp had to be a culinary genius, in his book.
The man laughed. “Yes, my meals are nothing compared to home cooked ones.”
Howl was rather pleased that the shyness that the bartender had displayed earlier had vanished. It was much easier to get information out of someone when they weren’t waiting for an excuse to bolt from the room.
“Oh, nearly forgot. Three galleons for the meal.”
Starting with why on earth the man wanted him to pay him in galleons. What happened to the British pounds he had taken great lengths to acquire?
“I beg your pardon?” Howl asked, hoping the man would elaborate.
Unfortunately, the man mistook his hesitation as something else. “I know, it’s a bit high,” he said, sighing and putting down the final sparkling mug. “But in the times that we live now, things have been a bit rough on business.”
Howl nodded absently while mentally trying to conjure up a plan. Damn, he had never considered that these people might have their own currency as well. Just how isolated were they from the nonmagical community, the professional side of him wondered.
“I don’t suppose you might take pounds instead, would you?” Howl asked, pasting a sheepish look on his face. “I just arrived in town, you see, and I…”
He trailed off, hoping the man would fill in the blanks of information on his own. Thankfully, he did.
“And you haven’t had a chance to get to Gringotts yet.” The bartender said, nodding his head. “Alright, just leave your word that you’ll pay the bill once you exchange your money.”
Howl let his shoulders relax slightly at his lucky break. And here he had been worrying that he would have to wash dishes, thus ruining his clothes, when all he needed was to write an IOU. He took the yellowed paper and quill the man offered him and scribbled out a promise to pay the bill as soon as possible. He finished signing his name (Howell Pendragon) with a flourish before handing the paper back. The former heartless magician watched avidly as the man tapped the paper once with his wand, causing it to glow a deep blue for a moment. Interesting, but he could do that. Maybe. Well, if he knew what the man had done, then he could replicate it.
“There.” The bartender said, putting away the long stick. “I should warn you though, you have only seven days to settle the bill before the curse activates.”
“Not to worry,” Howl said, getting up and replacing his hat on its rightful position atop his head. “You can be sure that the bill shall be settled before the week is out. Now if you could just point me the way to ‘Gringotts’, I’ll be on my way.”
The bartender looked startled, and, Howl noted with surprise, the suspicious look reemerged in his eyes. “You don’t know where the only wizarding bank in all of London is?”
Howl shrugged carelessly. “I am from Wales. I just arrived in London today, so I haven’t the slightest inkling.”
The alert look lightened slightly, but it did not fade completely. “And I suppose you don’t have a wand either, do you?” the man said sarcastically.
Howl thought quickly. “I have what remained after my son got a hold of it.” He replied, reaching into his pocket and hastily transforming a pen to look like a near duplicate of the bartender’s wand. He pulled it out for the wary man to see. “I shall need to have it fixed.”
The man frowned slightly. “Better to just purchase a new one,” he advised, relaxing a bit. “Olivander’s the place you need.”
Howl smiled and pretended to know what the man was talking about. One thing was for certain though, these wizards were quite different from the ones back home. He had yet to decide if that was good or bad.
The bartender walked out from behind the counter. “Well, may as well show you the way in.” He said, giving Howl one more slightly distrustful look.
Howl smiled pleasantly and followed him through the bar and out into a small courtyard. A walled courtyard. Why were they here?
“Two…three” the bartender mumbled under his breath, apparently counting the bricks in front of him. “Don’t know why anyone’d come here now, what with all that’s going on…no, it’s two across…”
The man tapped a brick that was exactly three up and two across three times with his wand. Howl watched keenly as a hole grew from the tip of the wand. Hmm, not at all like his transportation spells. Possibly a glamour instead? But it still seemed too simple to belong to such a category.
Howl was beginning to suspect that this world had its very own set of laws regarding magic. Interesting. A bit inconvenient perhaps, but definitely something his professional side wanted to look into. Creating a name for himself here would be a rather, enlightening, experience. Just as long as there was no danger involved of course.
The hole had expanded into a great archway by then, framing the way to a rather winding street. Magic fizzled around it as Howl studied it keenly. Definitely not a glamour then.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” the bartender said with a hint of smugness as he indicated that Howl walk through. “Just keep walking north and you’ll hit the bank, sooner or later.”
As soon as the wizard stepped through the doorway though, it began to melt back into a wall, leaving him just enough time to shout his thanks before the bricks blocked his view of the bartender.
“Nice chap,” Howl said, taking in the scenery of ‘Diagon Alley’. “A bit simple, but quite helpful anyhow.”
Howl had to admit, he was rather impressed by the alley; it was almost as endearing as Market Chipping. Actually, ‘alley’ was not the most accurate description for the place: ‘market’ or ‘bazaar’ was a thousand times more suiting to the rows of colorful shops lining the streets and the equally colorful people loitering outside them. All of whom, Howl noted, were wearing robes of multitudes of color.
Rather stuck on tradition are they not? he thought amused, eyeing a standard pointy witches hat donned by an old women. Howl himself would never willingly wear such tasteless and cumbersome outfits willingly. He prided his sense of fashion far too much to even consider them.
And whatever was the point of the robes anyway, Howl wondered as he walked passed a crowded Apothecary. Admittedly they were traditional, but they were clearly not very attractive. Or useful. Howl could count on one hand just how many wizards and such back home wore robes when they were not attempting to appear intimidating or impressive.
He raised an eyebrow in interest as he passed a shop selling owls, amongst the customary cats, rats, and toads. Morgan would like such a shop, perhaps he should return one day with him in tow. Which reminded him, he still needed to buy some candy and toys for the little cat. Onwards to the bank then.
Howl continued down the road, inquisitively surveying everything and everyone while making sure to draw little attention to himself. As expected, the task was quite difficult, given his natural good looks and stunning presence. Being one of the few adults not wearing a robe probably helped.
He stopped walking as a pure white building came into view. With its gleaming bronze doors and stained glass windows, the bank was noticeably fancier than the smaller, homely shops on either side of it. And in front of glistening doors, guarding the entrance were—
“Goblins,” Howl muttered to himself. “I was not aware there were any on this land.”
He stared at the goblin unashamedly as he neared him, speculating on just how the magical creature kept his existence hidden from a world that did not believe in him. While Market Chipping was not home to many of the little sprites, the folk there did not doubt their existence. Here was another story, Howl thought, remembering how Megan had constantly scoffed at fairy tales as children.
The goblin returned his stare with a glare of his own. Howl smiled enchantingly at him catching the creature off guard. Howl was not surprised by the reaction; his charm did that to just about everyone he met. The wizard received a bewildered look as he stepped through the front doors. The first thing that met his gaze was a pair of silver engraved doors.
“Charming,” Howl said under his breath, reading the engraving. Quite possessive, weren’t they? And rather rude. But he had nothing to fear, he would never be so imprudent as to steal from a magical bank. Only a fool would do that.
He stepped through the silver doors as they were opened by another pair of goblins and the first thing he saw was a vast marble hall. And then a flash of bubble gum pink hair appeared in his line of vision, before he was acquainted with the marble floor far more closely than he wished to be.
“Oh, bugger!” A feminine voice cried out, as Howl got up wincing. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t see you there!”
“It’s quite alright.” Howl said, gallantly ignoring the tremendous ache in his head the fall had gifted him with. The floor was just as hard as it looked as was proven by the growing bruise on the back of his head. He held out a hand and helped up the young lady who had crashed into him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She apologized again once on her feet. She offered him a rueful smile. “I’m just so clumsy, always tripping over my own feet.”
“It’s quite alright, miss,” Howl repeated, dusting off his clothes. “No harm, no foul.”
“I’m really sorry,” she continued on as though she had not heard Howl. She appeared fairly flustered and distracted, constantly glancing behind her and Howl would not have been surprised if that were the case. “I should have been watching where I was going. Sorry, sorry. Oh, your hat’s all dirty, let me get that for you.”
“It’s fine—” He broke off as the pink-haired lady helpfully knocked off his hat.
“Sorry!” She wailed as Howl picked up his hat off the floor. “I was just trying to help!”
“Miss, it’s fine,” the wizard replied, replacing his hat on his head. He eyed the girl warily and kept a hand on it as though to protect it. “You are quite a klutz, are you not?”
She nodded with an embarrassed grin. “It’s a curse.”
“I can see how,” Howl said, removing his hand. The woman showed no sign of trying to help again, so he figured it was safe. “Do not worry, you were not the first to attempt to unite me with the ground, and I have no doubt that you will not be the last.”
The pink-haired lady frowned and glanced behind her. Was she looking for someone? “I really am sorry, I was just in a hurry and—”
“Please stop apologizing,” Howl interrupted, smiling charmingly. “You were forgiven after your first.”
The lady smiled and glanced behind her again. “I—”
Howl had only a second’s notice before the explosion occurred. The massive surge of magic that he sensed just seconds before the walls directly across the hall burst into flame gave him just enough time to throw up a shield around him and the pink lady. It protected them from the worst of the heat and debris, though they were blessed enough to be part of the few farthest from the blast.
“Get down!” The pink-haired lady shouted, forcing him onto the ground, her wand already in her hand. She aimed it at the flames just as another blast hit. “Bloody Merlin, they actually did it! What the hell are they thinking, attacking Gringotts of all places?”
Apparently, she had not noticed the shield he had put up. Storing that piece of information away for later, Howl kept low to the ground as he tried to see just who the attackers were. Since he was understandably reluctant to move any closer, it was quite hard. But he saw enough to be able to tell that the entire bank was in a panic. Through the black smoke and frenzied movement of the other occupants of the bank, goblins to the fire, humans away, he could just make out several dark figures stepping out of the flames. The thought to make a strategic retreat had just crossed his mind when the figures began firing bolts of red light. At him. Ok, time and past for him to leave.
Making sure to keep the shield ready to be thrown up at a second’s notice, Howl began to edge back towards the entrance, keeping an eye out for any stray blasts. The entire bank was more or else empty by this time, aside from the attackers of course, and a few strays who seemed to be fighting back. Just what he needed, to be caught in the middle of a grand wizarding duel on his Day of Freedom. All the more reason for him to leave.
Reaching the doors, he turned to do just that and caught sight of something pink from the corner of his eye. It was the young lady who had bumped into him earlier. She had not left like the rest of the sane people who did not possess a death wish. Instead, she was battling the foes, alternating between ducking and firing blasts. Foolish girl.
Howl fiddled at the archway dividing potential safety and certain danger, before turning back. Damn his infernal sense of chivalry. Damn it. He couldn’t just leave a maiden to defend herself, especially not one as inelegant as this one. For one thing, Sophie would never forgive him if she found out. He probably would never be able to forgive himself either.
Inching closer to the battle, he sent a beam of light flying towards him away with a flick of his hand, only to regret it as it hit the doors behind him, pulverizing them and blocking off the only exit. Well, any second thoughts now were decidedly worthless. He really hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.
“Are you mental?” Pink Hair shouted, catching sight of him as she ducked a blast that whizzed by her ear. “What are you still doing here?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Howl replied pleasantly, as a red blast bounced off his shield and hit the wall behind him, leaving behind a gaping hole. He made a mental note to really avoid being hit by one of those.
“I’m a trained Auror,” The girl yelled back. She ducked another blast, and fired one of her own. “Stupefy!”
A clump of magic in the form of red light erupted from the tip of her wand and flew straight at one of the robed figured only to be deflected by a wave of a wand. All traces of clumsiness seemed to have vanished from her figure as she rolled out of the way of another beam.
“You okay there, Tonks?” yelled the other stray weaving and dodging his way towards them.
“Never better,” The pink-haired lady, Tonks, replied. She kicked away a piece of burning wood that had fallen a little too close. “Just a boring old trip to the bank, after all.”
The man gave a sheepish smile and fired at the figures. “Okay, I was wrong. No need to rub salt in the wound.”
Howl ignored the two, being more intent on getting out of the bank alive now that he knew the lady did not require his aid. Who knew that a simple trip to a bank in a hidden community could be potentially fatal? He dove behind a fallen pillar, ducking out of sight of the other occupants of the room. Once assured that he was safe, more or less for the time being, he focused on something that had struck him odd about the foes.
Not once had they advanced outside the barrier created by the flames. Yes, they fired many a beam of magic out at the rebels, but they had yet to actively hunt them. And that could only mean one thing, Howl concluded. It was a recovery mission, not a destructive one. The flames and magic being flung around was just for show, the robed ones had something else in mind. He needed to get away before they carried out their true plan.
“Keep back sir!” Tonks warned, catching sight of him as he peeked up to see how the battle was going. “Don’t try to help!”
“No need to fear that,” Howl muttered, taking in the sight of the ruined bank.
There were stray coins of glittering gold littering the floor, abandoned by their owners. The fire continued to burn bright, blocking the enemy from them, leaving no doubt in his mind that the flame was of magical origin. The goblins, the ones that had not vanished elsewhere, probably to protect the rest of the bank, were unconscious on the floor. At least, he hoped they were unconscious. Chivalry be darned, he was not getting involved in this fight.
He wasn’t offered a choice.
The pillar that was blocking the battle from him was blown apart before he had a chance to duck away. The force of the blast sent Howl flying into the wall behind him, narrowly missing the hole caused by an earlier curse. Instinctively, he sent out his own surge of magic, to counter it. Too late he realized that he had not drawn his imitation wand. The hastily formed wave of magic blew wind viciously at the flames, sending them right back at their conjurors. It didn’t seem to hurt them, but it did distract them enough to stop firing beams of light.
Wishing fruitlessly that Calcifer were here to help, Howl picked himself up, ignoring the shooting pain in his arm and the headache that had returned with a vengeance. The man who had joined Tonks was by his side in a second, clamping a vice like grip on his arm as he shielded them both from any curses with the wand in his other. The look that Howl received informed him that his little display of magic had not been well received. Howl sighed. With the way things had been going that day, the two had most likely decided that he was one of the enemies. So much for his Day of Emancipation.
“Tonks, we need to retreat,” the man said, narrowly missing being hit by a piece of falling marble. He pulled Howl behind one of few pillars that was still standing. Between the fire and the blasts of magic being sent back and forth, the once striking hall was completely unrecognizable. “Ministry will be here any second and Gringotts won’t stand much longer.”
“Right,” Tonks said, with a sidelong glance at Howl. “What about—?”
“Taking him with us.” The grip on his arm tightened.
Howl decided to throw in his two cents. “I’d rather not—”
Without warning, magic flared and jerked at his navel, pulling him to an unknown destination. Though caught off guard, Howl recognized the sensation as that of an amateur transportation spell. He would have fought it, if he hadn’t been extremely familiar with what happened when one tried to stop in the middle of a spell. Bugger.
He was jerked forward and his feet touched the hard firmness of solid ground. He stumbled forward at the sudden landing, his head spinning. The grip on his arm had yet to lessen. Howl could hear a commotion around him, but he was too dazed to make much sense of it. It took him a few extra seconds to realize that the transportation spell had disagreed with him. Note to self: never travel in this manner again. Seven league boots were better than this and that was saying something.
The haze cleared abruptly at another flare of magic, this one that he recognized vaguely as healing. Howl shook his head to clear away the last lingering bits of haze before looking around. He found himself staring at a roomful of wizards, all of whom had their wands trained upon him.
Howl sighed and uttered the foulest word that his childproof vocabulary (which had been beaten into him by his dear wife) contained.
“Fiddlesticks.”