Chapter 1: Particularly Unexceptional

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction and no copyright is intended. Everything that you recognise from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K Rowling.

{Edited on 16/08/2019}

~ Final Chapter Sneak Peak ~

In the end, they were all made of flesh that can be cut, and bones that can be broken.

She couldn't hear anything but the static in her head, and felt nothing but the numbness in her hands.

He was upon and around her quicker than she could blink; his chest safe and secure.

She had fulfilled her prophecy. She was done – free from her responsibility to the world. She could do anything. She could be anything.

But she so desperately just wanted to be his.

She closed her eyes and fell against him.

He held her up as she listened to his heart pounding through his shirt.

She knew everything was going to be okay. She had taken the long way around, but she was finally home to stay.

Through the dust clouds of collapsed castle – over the bodies of young and old alike; of friends and nameless faces, Katherine could see the sun shining on the Black Lake. The way it always had done.

It was the most beautiful summer's day.

Spencer. It was a perfectly normal last name. Quite unremarkable in London. Particularly unexceptional. As was fifteen-year-old Katherine, who shared it with her Aunt and Uncle that she lived with.

She didn't live with her parents, her Aunt and Uncle had told her that they had died in a fishing accident off the Isle of Wight when Katherine was four. And she had been sent to the middle of London to live with them. Not that it was often that she was actually with them.

She went to a boarding school, St Mary's, for the school term, and then on the first day of summer holidays she was shipped off to a football camp in Manchester.

And camp was where she was returning from on the last day of August, walking through the bustling streets of London in the afternoon sun from Kings Cross Station.

The horns of cars, the two way foot traffic, and the blinking crossing signals – it was enough to disorientate anyone.

Katherine, however, had been doing it for years. Sometimes, she would have a trip without bumping a single shoulder. People always seemed to stumble out of her way at the very last minute.

A street shy of her house, Katherine overheard a peculiar conversation on the corner of Grimmauld Place.

"Muggles everywhere," sniffed a woman who, if not for her sour expression, would have been quite beautiful, "Can't even whip out my wand to fix my hair when the street's in such a state…"

"Mother, can I go to Dervish and Bangs while you go to the bank?"

An indifferent teenage boy stood beside her; dark haired and darkly clothed. He had posed his question in the same bored, aristocratic tone.

"I need a new telescope or else I'll struggle in astronomy this year."

Katherine briefly wondered what kind of school offered astronomy…

"Why didn't you tell me when we went to Diagon Alley last week for the rest of your school things?" said the woman, exceptionally shrill, before sighing, "Never mind, you can get your telescope while I visit the vault,"

"Not that you'd fail astronomy… half of your family's in the bleeding sky..."

Katherine must have slowed down, entranced by the strange words exchanged between the woman in the blue box-pleat dress and her teenage son, because she knocked into someone.

There was a flash of blond hair and Katherine turned around and caught the back of the man she had ran into.

His lithe, gold-topped figure loped away.

By the time Katherine turned back, the mother and son were gone.

Katherine continued on her way, wheeling her suitcase behind herself.

Tucked away in North-Western London, a twenty minute walk from King's Cross Station, lied Claremont Square.

Most of her neighbours were politicians, distantly descended from royalty, or old money.

Katherine didn't know if the Spencer family were old money. If they were, surely she would have eccentric bejewelled grandparents that would have come and swept her away for a life of being spoilt with love and affection by now.

She lived in Number Twenty Four.

It was a skinny townhouse, perfectly rectangular. And inside where the most square people Katherine had ever met.

She was often mistaken for being her Uncle's daughter. From what she understood, Henry Spencer was her father's older brother. They shared the same mousy shade of hair.

Katherine had never seen so much as a photograph of her father, but she assumed she got it from him.

Despite the absence of her parents, she had a good life. She felt, however, that something was missing; always.

The black spiked fences all began to blur together, Katherine indifferently watching the gold door numbers as she passed them.

21…22…23…

It was as she put her key in the door, that a bicycle bell halted Katherine.

A dark-haired boy lazily zig-zagged down the street on a thin metal bicycle. He turned, as if sensing Katherine's gaze.

Neither could see the other clearly from their distance.

His dark head of hair disappeared around the block into the glare of the bright sunshine.

It was odd, Katherine was sure she had seen him before, but she couldn't remember from where…

Shaking her head, Katherine turned back and opened the door to Number 24. The door had barely clicked closed when Aunt Victoria's voice sounded.

"Katherine! Is that you?"

Katherine swiped a stray strand of hair from her face, "Yes, Aunt Victoria!"

"I've put some tea on!" Aunt Victoria continued to call, still not visible to Katherine, "Come back down after you put your things away!"

When dinner drew to a close later that night, their plates cleared of chicken and asparagus, Aunt Victoria daintily dabbed at her lips while catching Katherine's gaze.

"You're doing the dishes tonight, Katherine, don't forget."

"Yes, Aunt Victoria." said Katherine, promptly standing and clearing the table.

Filling the sink, Katherine sighed and mumbled under her breath, "Sometimes I wish I could just say abracadabra and they'd be done…"

Uncle Henry cleared his throat and stood up.

"Dinner was lovely," said Uncle Henry with a hand on Victoria's shoulder, "I'm going upstairs to take a shower."

Their lack of touching didn't faze Katherine anymore. They weren't affectionate people. Katherine couldn't remember ever being hugged or having her hair stroked.

By the time Katherine finished the dishes, it was dark outside. Just before she set foot on the stairs to go up to her room, Victoria's voice rang through from the sitting room where the television was gently playing.

"Katherine, double check the post please!"

Katherine resisted a sigh, let her shoulders slump, and trudged to the front door.

There were no letters to be seen inside the mail slot on the floorboards, but Katherine opened the door in case a package was left on the doorstep.

It was when an early evening breeze rushed against Katherine's face that she felt it chill her to the bone.

The street looked as it had done for the past eleven years that Katherine had lived there, but it was strangely quiet, considering it's placement in the bustling section of the city.

Muffled voices and a brief flash of black preyed on Katherine's paranoia. There were always gangs around the city, and other shady characters to boot. The night wasn't a time to be outside in the street unless one was up to no good.

Katherine failed to see the sources of the muffled voices. Trying to calm herself, she only let herself think that one of her neighbours had someone visiting –

"Katherine,"

Katherine froze at her name before recognising Uncle Henry's voice.

"There's a pot of green powder on my desk, throw a handful of it into the fireplace and repeat what I am about to say very clearly,"

Henry's knuckles were white around the front door.

"Claremont is compromised, send the Order."

Katherine didn't question her Uncle, she never did – not aloud anyway, but his tone of voice indicated that this was even less of a time to ask if he'd taken a fall recently.

After a thick moment of silence, Katherine turned and took the stairs two at a time.

She had only ever been in Uncle Henry's office a handful of times over the years. It was on the third level of the townhouse, chosen to be out of the way as Uncle Henry worked late nights often.

Katherine burst through the door to the small red room and, sure enough, found a pot of green powder on his desk. She took a handful and then knelt by the fireplace. After only a split-second of indecision, Katherine threw the powder in.

The orange flames roared a brilliant emerald green.

Katherine put her dignity to one side and called into the fire, "Claremont is compromised, send the Order."

She waited, but nothing else happened.

Half-disappointed, Katherine made to re-join Uncle Henry at the front door.

The Cheshire countryside was green and quiet on the last night of August, all apart from the gentle pitter-patter of rain.

A Manor, set apart from the others and nearly a half-day's journey by car to the nearest village, was warmed by a sitting room fireplace.

A grandfather clock ticked softly, nowhere near the hour. There was a gentle scrape of paper as a page was turned. A plume of steam danced from a Chinese-patterned tea set, thick with expense.

The room didn't lose any of its warmth when the orange flames turned a brilliant green.

Dust rose from the floorboards at the volume of the voice that erupted from the fireplace, "Claremont is compromised, send the Order!"

The sole occupant winced, a porcelain teacup spilling onto a silk bathrobe.

"Bugger!"

The man ceased his cleaning of his hot, sticky pyjamas at the face flickering in his fireplace. It was made up of familiar components…the eyes of her mother…the hair of her father…the worried crease he would have in his forehead…

A stick of Hornbeam wood was snatched from the coffee table, and the man flew out of the room.

She needed him.

Between Uncle Henry's office and the front door, a commotion erupted outside.

Her stomach swam away from her. Katherine almost fell down the stairs with her speed, flung open the front door, and found four cloaked figures advancing towards her front gate. The light from the street lamps glinted off their silver masks.

Panic rose in Katherine's throat. Her legs felt clumsy. Her hands, however, found the door frame; clinging to it.

Aunt Victoria stopped behind Katherine at the door, her lips trembling, "What's going on!?"

"Avada Kedavara!"

Uncle Henry stepped back, splaying his arms to cover Aunt Victoria.

A green jet of light shot out of nowhere and Uncle Henry fell like a discarded doll.

The green ebbed around Katherine's vision. The words, so similar to the ones she had spoken at the sink, rang in her ears like a train whistle.

"No!" Victoria wailed thickly.

Katherine was pushed into the doorframe as her Aunt scrambled around her. Aunt Victoria, however, didn't make it to Uncle Henry; a second jet of light struck her on the front steps.

Hours might have passed as Katherine stared down at the two; her eyes keen for any movement.

The dishcloth was blown from Aunt Victoria's stiff shoulder, but her chest didn't rise.

It was then, unequivocally lost, that Katherine thought she might like to be struck by a jet of green light too.

"MOSMORDE!"

The cloaked men had not stopped like her world had. One had a stick of wood pointed up at the sky. Another pulled up his sleeve.

Katherine shivered under the new green glow over the street. She looked past the street lamps to find a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth. It was unlike fireworks; a permanent, ugly fixture against the night sky.

A flash of blond hair out of the corner of her eye, however, could not go unnoticed. More heads of hair followed; brown, black…

Not just green, but red, purple, and pink lights lit up the street.

A skirmish had broken out.

People not wearing masks or hoods had arrived in a flurry of soft POP's. Like… magic…

"They've called him!"

A cloaked figure ran for Katherine, gloved-hand outstretched.

Katherine had the sense to stumble back– away. But her shoe caught on the uneven pavers and gravity pulled her to the ground. A pulsing, hot pain in her tailbone made her gasp.

The man was still advancing.

She used her hands to propel herself backwards, hoping… just hoping –

"Petrificus Totalus!"

He halted suddenly, an ice-blue glow encapsulating him. With wild eyes and stiff lips, he fell onto her.

Katherine shrieked at the weight atop her; trapped. Vehemently, she pushed at the man. She even tried to roll out from underneath. But it was all at a loss.

Just when she was ready to accept being stuck there for the rest of the night, she was freed from the weight of the man. Katherine scrambled up in time to catch sight of a lithe, blond man leaping away with a stick in his hand.

She watched him while she crawled behind a rubbish bin for cover, as he came face to face with one of the silver-masked cloak wearers.

Katherine had to duck a purple jet of light; and it hit the rubbish bin, reducing it to dust. Katherine's stomach vanished along with her cover. On her hands and knees, keeping low; Katherine scrambled behind Mr Bennet's Volkswagen parked on the street.

Her eyes found the blond man and the cloaked man once again.

They both had their sticks of wood raised. But then they just looked at one another. It was a long moment, considering that they were in the middle of a clash.

The rest of their respective comrades however, hadn't found reason to stop.

"How'd they find her!?"

"They saw him with her at Grimmauld Place!"

The blond man's face was imperceptible, but he stumbled back and into action at the yelled words of his comrades.

The cloaked man turned also, his eyes finding Katherine with unnerving speed. The lack of his identity, skewed by his silver mask, made Katherine sick with fright.

She ducked back behind the car, closed her eyes, and tried to breathe. But all that came out of her chest was a strained sound of resignation. She wanted to be anywhere but there, with her life hanging in the balance.

It was with her eyes closed, that she could only hear the fray continuing around her.

"Bloody hell!" a voice exclaimed, "When I get my hands on him when we're through here –"

An audible, sudden chill silenced the man and stalled the skirmish. It wrenched Katherine's eyes open with the peculiarity of it.

Both sides of the fight had stopped.

Looking around, she found that all eyes were on her. She realised far too late that they were not staring at her, but at something behind her.

She turned and found a sucking hole of flesh. And then it was on her.

She tried to pull her head back from the slurping flesh.

There was screaming, but it wasn't her own.

A warm hand closed around Katherine's arm; a semblance of normal temperature.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Katherine opened her eyes in enough time to watch a cloaked creature be hurtled back by a ball of bright, white light. When it disappeared from sight, she turned her attention to her saviour.

The man was illuminated by the red and green burst of lights from the resumed skirmish.

The church clock around the corner started chiming loudly.

Katherine thought that such an ordinary sound had no business in such an extraordinary situation.

"He's coming!" a raven-haired man cried to his plain-clothed comrades.

Katherine's saviour scanned the fray around them with protruding brown eyes, the whites large. His mop of curls were permanently tousled in the constant rushes of air around them.

"You will incur the wrath of the Dark Lord for intervening here tonight!"

"Oh, piss off, Nott!"

Eight chimes…

"Who…" Katherine's mouth was dry, "Who are you?"

Nine chimes…

"Who's coming?" Katherine tried again.

The long sleeve of his black robe tickled her wrist as he pulled her tight against him without a word.

Ten chimes…

The sensation of being squeezed through a tube overcame her abruptly; all air left her lungs and her shoe left her right foot.

Eleven chimes…

And then, as quickly as the man had pulled her to him, she was on all fours; emptying her tea and biscuits into a bush conveniently at her feet. Eyes wet and face warm, Katherine wiped at her lips and looked around.

They were no longer on Claremont Square.

Twelve chimes…

They hadn't missed a chime; and yet they were standing one block over in the nature reserve outside Grimmauld Place.

Katherine was vaguely aware of the man shucking off a robe and stowing it behind a bush.

"What…" Katherine's breath was still hard to come by, but she pointed back in the direction they came from, "What was – that?"

"We apparated," he answered.

He did not meet her eye, instead vigilantly scanning their surroundings.

"Instantaneous teleportation."

Katherine shook her head at the nonsense, "Who are you?"

He checked his watch.

"Felix Giles; Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he still didn't meet her eye, "You can call me Giles."

Katherine blinked once.

"Witchcraft and wizardry…" Katherine repeated, her tongue working around the foreign words, "Like, magic?"

"Like magic," said Giles, with a tight smile that dropped quickly.

He poked his head out of the gate, unlatching it with his fingers as he watched the street.

"We need to call the police!" said Katherine. She looked down and instantly mourned her right shoe – alongside her relatives.

"We need to get walking."

The activity of the floo at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had woken Sirius Black from the last sleep before Hogwarts.

The fact that the wards of the ancestral home of Black were blood-based, meant that every member inside the walls felt a faint rush in the veins of their forearms each time the threshold was breached. It was usually easily ignored, unless people flooded through en masse.

It was as he rubbed sleep from his eyes that he noticed it was freezing cold, and then remembered that it was still summer.

Pulling his pyjama set on over his underwear, he made his way to the window and rubbed a circle clear of an unseasonal frost.

He immediately jumped back with a shout.

A horde of black robed creatures swarmed down the street, skeletal claws outstretched. Dementors. One, however, had strayed from the pack and attached its fleshy mouth to the outside of his window.

Ears hot, and his neck throbbing uncomfortably with his racing pulse, Sirius could only watch as it pulled itself away – the window squelching like it had been suction cupped – and vanished over the top of Grimmauld place.

To Claremont Square, thought Sirius as he ran a hand through his hair and leant on his window pane.

From the confines on the sealed window, Sirius all but pressed his face against it to see more of the street below.

He was about to abandon his watch to stoke the fireplace at the foot of his bed when he saw it.

Two people POPPED into the visible realm – right out the front of Number Twelve, in the nature strip.

At the blonde hair of the girl in the pair, Sirius' mind was cast back to his earlier passing of the girl on Claremont.

For as long as he could remember, he had come up with all sorts of fantastical excuses to go outside and sneak around the block to watch the muggle children. They all came and went over the years. Except for one.

He had once witnessed her kick her football an impossible distance – beyond retrieval – and wondered if, perhaps, she was like him – if she was a witch. A tall, severe woman had pulled her back into their house by the ear, reprimanding her.

He had felt a spark of kinship. He too was always getting in trouble for doing what he was not supposed to.

His first year of Hogwarts came, however, and she wasn't on the train.

It was as the pair moved out onto the street that Sirius realised that it was her.

She limped; a shoe missing, her dress torn, and her hair a mess as she glanced over her shoulder.

She had just apparated, Sirius realised with a start, or at least side-alonged.

His heart endured another peculiar sensation as her eyes drifted curiously over his home. He had watched many others do the same, the miss-numbering usually drawing a second look.

She couldn't see it, he knew, but, it seemed, her eyes met his.

Giles strode quickly.

Katherine followed. After all, she had nowhere else to go. And he seemed safe. Her tentative trust of the man did not stop her from being suspicious about the lunacy he was sprouting about magic.

"Did you not hear me?" said Katherine, "We need to call the police! My Aunt and Uncle are… are…"

The night air made the word 'dead' harder to say.

Giles sighed and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but sirens blared instead of his words.

At the edge of the pavement, Giles put out an arm.

Katherine's chest met with his elbow. Better that, she mused, than being run over.

Numerous police and ambulances sped past and turned right onto Claremont Square, a block over from the edge of Grimmauld Place where she and Giles were halted.

"The muggle authorities will take care of your Aunt and Uncle," Giles said blankly, but then something flickered in his eyes.

He turned his head either way to watch the traffic before stepping off the gutter to cross the street.

Katherine hurriedly limped after him, torn between taking off her left shoe and wanting to keep at least one foot clean.

"And as for those who did it," Giles shook his head with bitter twist of his lips, "They won't end up in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?"

Giles tilted his head, hesitating. "The wizarding gaol."

"I've had a very long night, if you're having me on… I'll… I'll…" she lost her words as they stepped into the full light of a street lamp.

It was as if Al Pacino had stepped off of the screen at the theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue that Katherine had seen 'The Godfather' at. The light passed, the pair cast into shadows once more. And Giles was looking at Katherine in horror.

"Merlin," Giles breathed, big eyes unblinking, "Did Harry not teach you anything?"

The fact that the man used such a fond nickname for her Uncle wasn't lost on Katherine. No one called Uncle Henry 'Harry'.

Giles blinked, once, twice… and then watched his path again, shaking his head and muttering "Jealous squib…"

Katherine caught, yet another, unfamiliar word – and a strange error in the numbering of Grimmauld Place. There was no twelve. Just eleven, and then thirteen straight after… She had lived a street over for eleven years, and never noticed it on the numerous times she walked the street.

"Squib?"

Giles made a dismissive gesture with his hand, still looking ahead, "A non-magic person from a magic family."

He had spoken more quietly than before, most likely because of the busy main street they had just stepped onto from Grimmauld Place.

Scantily-clad girls stumbled arm-in-arm…groups of young men in bell bottom trousers swayed with bottles in hand, laughing at something escaping Katherine…neon lights consumed Katherine into something other worldly...

The brisk breeze and the eyes of leering men on her skin made Katherine cross her arms and walk closer to Giles.

Her saviour didn't seem all that concerned, his eyes ahead and his mind somewhere else entirely.

Katherine thought back on Giles' explanation.

If Uncle Henry knew about magic… that meant… it meant that her father was… was magic – and perhaps her mother too. But… Katherine was completely ordinary. She had never done anything of sort she had seen that night, not even in her dizziest daydreams.

Katherine tucked her hair behind both of her ears and began wringing her hands. Her dirty, scuffed kitten heel gave her a limp– the other absent. She couldn't feel her feet carrying her.

"Are you sure I'm not one?" Katherine inclined her head, as to not let any passer-by's read her lips, "A squib."

"Very sure," said Giles, looking ahead.

Katherine's disbelief must have been loud on her face, even if she didn't voice it, because Giles glanced at her.

He looked back straight ahead, squinted, and then turned back to Katherine.

"Look," said Giles, his breath visible in front of his face, "Did you ever make anything happen?"

He glanced back forwards to watch his step.

"Something unable to be explained?"

Katherine frowned and shook her head, "Well, coincidences… coincidences happen to everyone."

Giles looked back at Katherine, his face caught in an unreadable expression.

"Not to you." said Giles firmly, a flicker of something passing through his large brown eyes.

His words, the familiarity he seemed to have with her, wasn't lost on Katherine.

"How is it that you know who I am?" Katherine finally asked, stepping around a fire hydrant.

Giles faced forward, "A story for another time."

Katherine halted everything; her thoughts, her feet…

She crossed her arms, "No."

Giles stopped and turned back, squinting.

A red light turned green behind him, casting a strong glow.

Katherine resisted a flinch.

"No?" Giles repeated, glancing around them.

People passing them were giving the pair strange looks.

Their curiosity was well-founded; Katherine had grazes and dirt all over, and Giles was wearing a full pin-stripe suit.

"You show up out of nowhere – and just kidnap me," Katherine whispered furiously, endeavouring to not be overheard, "I want to know how you know who I am."

Katherine knew that she was acting like a petulant child. But she couldn't stop. And, with a heaving chest, she stared up at Giles.

He had stilled and stared back down at her. He didn't blink.

"Your parents didn't drown on a fishing trip," said Giles suddenly.

He sighed, looked either side of himself, and fixed Katherine with a tired look.

"They were murdered by the darkest wizard the world's seen," He paused, and then nodded down at her, "And now he's after you."

Murdered. It was one thing to know that your parents had died, but… murdered?

"Why?"

Giles nodded his head forward in indication to keep walking, "That bit I don't know."

Katherine begrudgingly fell back into step with the man and thought quietly as she looked down at her crossed arms.

"Was it in the newspaper or something?" Katherine tried to catch his eye, "Is that how you know who I am?"

Something flickered in Giles eyes as he glanced at Katherine. After a moment, he nodded curtly.

Katherine turned away, recognising his reluctance on the subject, and mulled over everything that she had learnt.

In the space of a few short minutes she had lost her guardians, her normalcy, and her naivety.

Her eyes took in London; the way it always had been. The way that it had always been hiding another world just out of her peripheral vision.

But what was expected of her now?

"I've got nowhere to go, where could we possibly be going?" Katherine asked, her curiosity rejuvenated, "They're expecting me at St Mary's tomorrow –"

"It's September first," Giles said with an incredulous glance at Katherine, "The train to Hogwarts leaves at eleven o'clock."

Katherine turned her mind back to him saying he was a Professor at this 'Hogwarts' place, meaning that it was some kind of school…

"You… you don't mean to say that I'm going to this Hogwarts place?" Katherine all but spluttered.

Giles wasn't perturbed, his sights set on something up ahead.

"Castle," Giles corrected her casually, "And, yes, I do."

"But I don't have any books or –"

"We are going to Diagon Alley first to get your school supplies." Giles stopped by a sign to the underground and glanced around.

Katherine stopped in front of him, her heel on the gutter, and resisted a laugh.

"Diagon Alley?" Katherine repeated, her tongue struggling around the foreign name, "We take the underground to this magical place?"

Giles almost looked amused.

"At –" Katherine checked her wristwatch –"one in the morning?"

Giles produced a stick of cherry wood; gleaming smooth apart from six rings at the base.

"Not the underground," said Giles, looking around with visible effort to appear inconspicuous, "This is just a clear spot to call the Knight Bus."

There was a thickness to the moment. A feeling of a joint between what Katherine had known up until that point and what was awaiting her. It was in the face of a new world that Katherine found herself clinging to her old one. She remembered her Aunt and Uncle, and felt instantly guilty.

"What about… what about their funerals… I…I can't just leave them there…" Katherine stammered, feeling her eyes burn.

Giles looked upon her with immediate understanding.

"And all of my things –"

Giles held out his right arm, the stick of wood in his hand, "Will be taken care of,"

There was a loud BANG and then a midnight blue bus slowed against the curb.

Alarmed at the ear-splitting arrival, Katherine glanced around but found not an eye on them or the bus.

A man that strongly resembled a pipe cleaner with eyes moseyed up to the door from the inside and leant on the pole. He eyed a card in his hand with a bored expression.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus; emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard," he droned, sighing and blinking, "My name is Dave Jenkins and I will be your conductor this evening."

Dave Jenkins looked up, raised his eyebrows and waved an arm in indication that Katherine and Giles step aboard. He peered behind them all the while.

Giles stepped up, paused, and waved Katherine forward.

"No baggage this evening." said Giles as he turned back to Dave Jenkins.

Dave nodded and retreated into the bus, "Well, come on, then," he hit the back of the driver's box, "It's a busy night – Tuesday, you know?"

Giles turned back to Katherine once more, "What are you waiting for?"

Katherine didn't know. She couldn't go back to her house. She officially had no remaining family members that she knew of. If she didn't go with Giles, she had no way of knowing what would become of her.

So she steeled herself and lifted her bare foot onto the cool metal step first.

"Wait,"

Katherine halted, looking up at Giles questioningly.

Giles looked down at her remaining left shoe, "Will you kick that off already?"

Katherine hesitated, staring at the shoe she had worn numerous times over past years.

After a silent moment of bereavement, she swivelled her ankle up, stepped up onto the bus, and let the ivory suede slip into the gutter.

Dave pulled lightly on a crank that slammed the doors shut behind Katherine.

The lights of the city began to blur past sickeningly fast.

Katherine followed Giles' lead and sat in an armchair against the windows.

Dave was unfazed by the ludicrous speed and jarring turns that made Katherine's knees regularly hit Giles', and casually leant against the back of the Driver's box.

"Where are we going this evening, Sir?" Dave asked, righting his navy fiddler cap that neatly matched the rest of his uniform.

A particularly sharp turn in the middle of a busy intersection sent Katherine from her seat.

Before she could go headfirst into one of the occupied rolling beds, Giles' arm flashed out.

Katherine's collar bone met the back of his elbow unpleasantly.

"The Leaky Cauldron." said Giles, retracting his arm without so much as a glance to Katherine.

Katherine sat beside him, rubbing her chest for a moment, before looking around.

It was real. Magic was real. And what was better? Katherine was magical.

It made sense that magic folk had their own means of transportation, but Katherine was curious as to how it went undetected. She assumed they used spells of some kind, with their wands. Well, that's what Katherine assumed the sticks of wood she had seen firing jets of light all night were called.

She had seen magicians pull rabbits out of hats... cut people in half… use vanishing cabinets with what must have been imitations. Because surely that sort of magic was tomfoolery to people like Giles and Dave…

In the beds rolling around the open floor of the bus, were snoring men and women of varying ages and degrees of shabbiness. Katherine saw wands in hands and poking out from beneath pillows. One particularly shrivelled old woman, sleeping with boots and her hat on, snored so violently that gold sparks shot out from the end of her wand.

Smiling to herself, Katherine turned away, feeling somewhat ashamed for staring. Instead, she found her own reflection in the windows on the opposite side of the bus. The night sky made her stark against the smattering of rain drops and neon signs, and she frightened herself.

Her eyes were swollen and her hair was tangled, dirt and cuts peppering her skin.

It was then, in her first moment of calm for the night, that Katherine discreetly used her collar to dab at her eyes; feeling very silly for doing so. She hadn't even realised that she had been crying.

However, it seemed that Giles had, for he cleared his throat and tapped out a short tune on his knee.

Giles nodded at Katherine's bare feet, cold against the linoleum lining the bus floor, "Aren't you a bit young for those shoes you were wearing?"

"Aunt Victoria buys – bought…" Katherine took a deep breath before finishing her answer, "She bought me the same things she wore."

"Since you were four?" Giles asked, his face screwed up.

Katherine pushed away her curiosity at his knowing of the age she was when her parents died. It was probably in the newspaper, she reminded herself.

"Just about," Katherine slowly smiled, and stiffened her posture for show, "We Spencers have a reputation to uphold."

High teas, gala's, and grand openings were what Katherine had been raised around. She had learnt the language of flowers, how to hold a fan, and possessed a practiced hand for pouring tea.

Giles blinked strangely, his throat bobbing.

Katherine frowned, relaxing into a more natural position that would give her Aunt an aneurism, "What?"

"It's nothing." said Giles lightly, shaking his head gently. His eyes took on a distant glint.

Katherine looked down at her hands that she wrung in her lap, waiting for the weird air to pass from between them.

"How do know my Uncle?" Katherine finally asked.

Giles took a long breath and watched a bed almost collapse in front of them, "I lived next door to him for a time."

"You lived on Claremont?" Katherine asked, stunned that she hadn't ever noticed him.

Giles shook his head, his lips pursed.

"I lived next door to your grandparents."

Katherine's mind positively hummed with questions at his casually thrown words.

"Did you know my father?" Katherine asked, bobbing in her seat.

Giles gave a curt nod, his eyes firmly on the window, "I'm sure you've heard all about him from your Uncle."

"No, actually," she said quietly, shrugging and tucking her hair behind both of her ears, "I haven't."

Giles' eyes slid back to her –

"Leaky Cauldron, Stoney Street!"

Katherine didn't believe that they could have arrived at their destination so quickly. The bus was still hurtling along at sickening speed.

A long and loud SCREECH made Katherine grip the arms of her chair. She knew better than to assume the bus would stop like a normal bus.

And it didn't. If Giles hadn't clawed his hands into the arms of his chair, he would have knocked his head into the back of the driver's box.

The rolling beds bunched together at the front of the bus, slowly rolling back from the sudden lurch.

Giles gripped Katherine's elbow and led her from the bus, giving a rushed 'thank you' and 'goodbye' to Dave Jenkins.

They succumbed to the crisp night air once again.

The pavement was wet and rough beneath Katherine's bare feet, and the breeze went straight through her blouse.

"Take her away –" was the last thing Katherine heard from Dave Jenkins before the bus disappeared as quickly as it had arrived for them. Another deafening BANG echoed around the street long after it had left Katherine's sight.

Giles' hand around her elbow pulled Katherine out of her reverie and through a black door.

Loud chatter and the clinking of tankards contrasted the quiet street they had stepped in from. A short bar had labels on the taps such as 'Butterbeer', 'Elven wine' and 'Ogden's firewhiskey', brands Katherine had never seen.

The next thing that drew Katherine's eye was the over-sized fireplace that people were stepping in and out of, barely grazing their heads. Before they could be burned by the orange flames, they threw in powder that turned them green –

"Leave enough floo powder for the rest of us, Fawley." a stocky man grumbled at a lamp-post-thin man with a dripping fistful of green powder.

Giles guided Katherine to a stop at bar and leant over it to call over the bartender. But Katherine's eyes were stuck on the fireplace. It was like her Uncle's. He really had known about magic… always linked to it without her or Aunt Victoria being any wiser…

The swaying men, dressed in floor length robes that looked very alike to dresses, disappeared into the green flames.

No one seemed as alarmed as Katherine at the development. It must have been normal to travel by fire in the magic world, Katherine thought to herself.

"Tom," said Giles, finally catching the attention of the balding man behind the taps, "A room please."

Tom slapped down a tankard of frothing gold liquid and accepted thrown gold coins before he produced a key, sliding it across the bar to Giles.

"Aye, Felix," said Tom, his eyes and mind elsewhere, "Room number seven."

Giles made a fist around the key and used his other hand to pull on Katherine's elbow once more.

They had to navigate around cluster of small round tables and one long galley before they reached the staircase. They went up without pause, the sound of chatter and clanking cutlery settling beneath them the higher they went.

In the upstairs hallway, a new noise presented itself. A train shook the windows, screaming along below Katherine's feet. Dust lifted from between the floorboards and Katherine resisted a grimace.

The doors were a dark green with peeling gold numbers. Number seven was nearing the end of the hallway on the left. The small bronze key revealed a shoebox room with one bed and a threadbare rug.

Giles shuffled in past Katherine and went straight to the small fireplace, squatting by it. His back hid most of what he was doing, but when a sudden warmth spread through the room, Katherine didn't need to see the flames flickering out of his wand tip.

Katherine, unsure of what to do, padded over to the rain-dotted window.

"Go ahead and sleep,"

Giles' voice turned Katherine around, her hands gripping her upper arms.

He stood half stiff and half relaxed, his hair tickling against his forehead which gave away that it hadn't been an easy night for the pair.

Giles rubbed one eye to the point of exploding it in his eye socket, "I've got to contact everyone involved in extracting you tonight…"

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! :)

*~ Chapter 2: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black (preview) ~*

Visions of being chased by hordes of riderless brooms in pursuit of a soaring sticky date pudding quickly left Regulus and his eyes snapped open.

Eyes the size of tennis balls watered behind a handheld candle, floppy bat-like ears twitching at his attention.

At the sight of his House Elf, Regulus fell back into his pillows and scrubbed at his sleep-crusted eyes, "What is it, Kreacher?"

Kreacher's spindly legs, less than a foot long, bent into his re-purposed pillowcase as he shuffled his feet.

"Mistress is needing you downstairs – dressed."

Regulus noted that it was still the dead of night.