Wretched little beggar

Better Late than Never

She entered a dingy alleyway, made almost entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. It sloped downwards in uneven paving, and the wizards who walked around and muttered to each other seemed unbothered by the rain. Actually, M realized she wasn't getting wet anymore either.

The decrepit buildings grew close together, which could explain some of it, and perhaps a larger scale repelling charm strengthened that. It was worth looking into, and the young girl made a mental note of researching that in the Hogwarts library if she one day managed to get there.

She strolled down further into the street, ignoring the strange glances the wizards and witches gave her. She was at home among these people, magical or not ; she had been raised by them, and she was one of them. Or was she ? She wasn't the street urchin that had left London last year, nor was she like any of the "normal" children she saw at Hogwarts, and she suspected she never would be. But... Did it matter ?

However, M still knew how to act like she'd been raised to, and for once she kept her head up. Now was no time to appear like a weak child who had wandered into the lion's den by accident, as that would only make her easier prey.

All her old street instincts, who had never really left, flared up again. She walked with more confidence, and yet she was more careful than ever. Anything here was a potential threat, and it was made even more dangerous from the fact that it might be of the magical kind.

The wizards seemed more open about their illegalness than the Muggles. She supposed it had to do something with their government. How else would you have a store that advertised selling poisonous candles ? And yet, to an outsider it would certainly appear as daunting, if not more, as an illicit drug exchange in the middle of the night.

The number of stares she received kept growing. Wizards, cluttering together and pointing at her while muttering. A witch who stared directly at her without blinking. Some who were more discreet in their observation, throwing only furtive glances, but that M could still pick out. All wondered the same thing. Who was this strange child that had walked into their homes, and who seemed unfazed at all the Dark artifacts and sketchy wizards around her ?

She pointedly pretended to ignore them, all while keeping a firm grip on her wand and wishing she still had her knife. Finally, in what seemed a sort of test to gauge her, an old woman accosted her, holding a tray of what looked suspiciously like whole human nails.

-"Are we lost, dear ? Or maybe you want some of these ?" She held out her tray.

M raised an uninterested eyebrow and walked on. She didn't have a clear destination in mind, and just wanted to see as much of it as possible before going to Hogwarts.

-"Great prices, perfect for hexes! Don't you have a certain someone at home you want to curse ?"

The creepy woman kept getting closer, leering over the girl's shoulder, and finally she placed a bony hand on her shoulder.

-"So dearest ? Nothing you want ?"

The grip became uncomfortably tight on her shoulder, and M finally snapped. She'd had enough and her day had already been bothersome as it was.

She swiveled around and punched the old lady in the nose, which made a satisfying crack, and it sent her tray of nails flying. M had a hunch as to where she got them from now. The witch appeared to be recovering from the hit, and the young girl didn't have any time to waste, so she knocked her legs out from under her.

The woman hit the pavement dully, but regained her senses quickly and scurried away like a rat.

Usually, this was the point at which she would have run, but a young man, not yet completely out of adolescence and with a scraggly mustache and a bad case of acne came lunging at her next. He was armed : a short knife with a dark blade that seemed to suck out all light around. Most likely Dark Magic, and with some nasty effects.