London Nights
London in June is much warmer than in March, and Emily's birthday falls in this mild month.
Several months have passed since the news of the murderer's prison break in London was reported. The city is peaceful, and the public's initial accusations of government incompetence and weakness have turned into exaggerated claims and attempts to create panic. In short, in their words, those officials are simply incapable of doing their jobs properly.
Queenie's school also canceled the school bus service, but still advised students to travel in groups as much as possible and to avoid going out at night.
Has Harry sent what I requested?
“Of course, I received the package this morning.” Emily had fallen in love with the ten-second anti-pussy treatment Harry gave Queenie after using it a few times, and said that this was the one she wanted for her birthday.
"Great! I was worried he wouldn't be able to buy it after he left that place!"
"Harry always leaves his contact information for things he likes so that—"
"Alright, alright, I know Harry's thoughtful. When are you getting there?"
“I haven’t left yet.” Queenie tilted her head, holding her phone between her shoulder and face, one hand on the cabinet and the other fiddling with the buckle on her high heel strap. “Are we really going to a bar? The fugitive matter hasn’t been resolved yet.”
Emily on the other end of the phone seemed to roll her eyes. "Alright, sweet girl, it's my birthday, so I get to decide what to do. It's been months and nothing's happened yet. Besides, this place is very close to Winston's apartment. We can just stay together for one night."
"But I promised Harry—"
"Shut up! Do you love me or him?"
"Hmm—"
Emily screamed, "You, come, right now!" and then she slammed the phone down.
Queenie slung her bag over her shoulder. Well, it was just one night; she didn't expect anything to happen.
Queenie habitually picked up the emerald hair clip from the cabinet and put it on. The sound of her high heels clicking on the stairs was crisp. To be honest, she had missed going to a bar in a long time. She was a real adult now and didn't need a fake driver's license anymore.
Sirius was called back to the old house for a meeting. Ever since Dumbledore was "forced" out of Hogwarts by those two idiots Fudge and Umbridge, he seemed to have been busy investigating something, and his whereabouts were a mystery. The only person who could contact him was Snape.
Sirius scoffed at Dumbledore's level of trust in Snape, saying that Dumbledore must have become somewhat soft-hearted due to his age.
"Within two days, we may face a direct confrontation with the Death Eaters... or even Voldemort himself..."
Sirius was still worried about Queenie's safety, but he was only gone for a short while—well, a good while. Dumbledore was quite talkative; he should have asked Kreacher to keep watch for him for a bit, even though he didn't want Kreacher to know about Queenie's presence, but at least he could have ordered it to keep quiet.
"Silis? Siris?"
"Yes...how so?"
Dumbledore's glasses slid down his crooked nose slightly as he looked through the half-moon lenses at Sirius at the end of the table. "I say, perhaps you would like to join the vanguard?"
Sirius's gray glasses suddenly lit up. "Of course!" Uh, wait a minute, but he had other tasks... Wait, if the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters went to war, why would the Death Eaters bother to cause trouble in the Muggle world? He excitedly replied again, "Of course!"
Snape gave a cold laugh on the other end. Black was naturally happy, after all, a dog will die if it keeps holding it in for too long.
Dumbledore ignored Snape's sneer and nodded slightly. "Then, Alastor, you'll lead the team... Remus, Kingsley, Tonks..."
Sirius didn't pay attention to what Dumbledore said after that; he was busy mouthing Snape, repeating the same two words over and over again: "snotty-nosed brat" and "coward," but as long as it annoyed Snape, that was enough.
When Sirius returned to Queenie's apartment, he looked around. A few months was enough time for raiders to treat the Forbidden Forest as their own backyard, let alone this small public green space. Finding nothing changed, the black dog continued to burrow into the bushes, pondering the timing Dumbledore had mentioned.
Suddenly, the black dog abruptly raised its head and looked towards Queenie's apartment, which was completely dark. No, it was too early; it was well past her bedtime. She wasn't home!
Queenie hadn't drunk too much; at least she was still sober when the party ended. The group clamored to continue the party at Winston's house, but Queenie declined because one of Winston's classmates was clearly interested in her—even after she revealed she had a boyfriend.
The bar wasn't far from her home, and Queenie planned to walk back to sober up.
This street is almost entirely bars, and it's packed with young people. Once you leave this area, there probably won't be many people left.
The temperature difference between night and day in June was nearly ten degrees Celsius. Queenie rubbed her arms and quickened her pace. She had just stepped out of the bar district when she saw two strangely dressed people standing under the streetlights. They looked like they were wearing robes? Somewhat like clergymen.
Queenie thought she was probably going to some themed party. She noticed that the other person had also seen her and gave her a friendly smile.
But her smile quickly faded as the two men caught up with her!
…Good, calm down. Queenie breathed a sigh of relief. Just to be safe, she decided to take the bus and hoped there would be more people at the station.
...No! The station was completely deserted!
Queenie pulled out her phone, ready to dial Harry's number, whether he answered or not, she would consider it a call. No, Harry hadn't reached his destination yet; perhaps she should call his father.
Queenie tried her best to pretend she didn't care, but before she could press the call button, she was suddenly pushed by a force and staggered two steps, almost falling.
"Ha, a Muggle actually carries magical defense items!"
“Interesting, let me see… beautiful lady, please take off the emerald hair clip from your head.”
Muggle? Magic?
Queenie steadied herself and turned around in a panic, only to find that the two strange men were each holding a wooden stick and pointing it at her. Wooden sticks, right? They looked somewhat familiar, like—
"I see, you're Lockhart fans too." She tried to keep her tone steady. "Are you cosplaying?"
Now it was the two strange men's turn to be stunned. "Lohart?"
Queenie nodded calmly. "Giddro Lockhart, I guess you've read his series of novels too?"
The two exchanged a glance. In the wizarding world, there was probably no one who didn't know Lockhart, or at least had heard of him, even though he was a notorious Death Eater.
"Alright, miss, no matter where you heard about Lockhart, or where you got your magic defense items, now, don't make me say it a third time, take off that emerald hair clip from your head."
Queenie instinctively knew she couldn't listen to them, nor could she explain the situation with so-called cosplay anymore; their faces looked no different from the criminals on TV.
Speaking of people and cars, where have all the British gone?
"What exactly do you want? Rob me?" She gripped her phone tightly behind her back and dialed a number randomly, following muscle memory.
"Don't waste your breath on her. I think this lady needs a Soul Reaper's Curse."
...What curse?
She dialed someone's number but no one answered. Queenie took a step back, preparing to run. They seemed somewhat wary of the hair clip Harry had given her. Queenie hoped the hair clip would hold on a little longer, at least allowing her to reach a place with people.
The strange man drew a peculiar hand gesture with his stick, "Impe—"
Queenie immediately turned and ran, and a nimble fish leaped out from beside her slender legs as her green skirt hem appeared.
She brushed past a huge, frenzied, violent black shadow.
"Damn it! What is that?!"
A cacophony of curses and barking filled the air. Queenie stopped and turned back in shock. It was Bigfoot! It had bravely tackled the man who was pointing a stick at her, its sharp teeth tearing his leg to shreds.
"What are you still standing there for?!"
The other man, recovering from the shock of the black dog, immediately raised a wooden stick, shouting, "Incarce—"
The black dog turned fiercely at him, its gleaming eyes looking ten times more ferocious than Graybury's in their circle. He choked, then angrily wondered if he had been intimidated by a dog from the Muggle world?
He pointed the stick at the black dog again, "Incarce—"
The black dog opened its mouth wide, making a mocking expression in a very human-like way. Then, to the horror of everyone present, including Queenie, the black dog straightened up and transformed into a tall human figure. The figure casually picked up the wooden stick of the seriously injured person on the ground, and two red lights flashed, and both people were unconscious.
Queenie dialed Harry's number with trembling hands, and the call was answered after only two rings.
"Queenie? What's wrong?"
Harry was breathing heavily, but Queenie didn't notice; she even forgot that Harry shouldn't be able to answer her call at this time.
“Harry! Bigfoot turned into Sirius! Sirius is a dog! Bigfoot is a cannibal! No, Sirius is a cannibal!” she stammered incoherently. “I swear I saw a cannibal!”
“What—Queenie, tell me slowly, did you see Sirius?” Harry asked urgently.
“Yes, I—” Queenie’s voice caught in her throat as the man—or dog—who looked like Sirius, walked up to her excitedly. Queenie stood still and let him snatch her phone away.
“Hey Harry, don’t worry, someone was trying to cause trouble, but I got there in time. Queenie is unharmed!” Sirius winked at Queenie with his left eye and looked her over. “Uh, wait, she looks like she bumped her ankle.”
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