Hermione Granger and the Theft of Magic

Chapter 11: The Stories Told By Clothing

[A/N: Thank you to Calamity Owl for beta-reading this chapter!]

They spent the rest of the morning and a bit into the afternoon going over basic Charms theory, then had cheese toasties for a small lunch. Afterward, Harry cleaned all of the dishes magically to confirm he was feeling better. Some of the spells didn't clean quite as quickly as he'd have liked, but overall he felt good enough to go out.

"It's time to introduce you to Wizarding Britain," he told Hermione once they'd put away the dishes and pan. "I'll glamour us so we won't be recognizable, but we'll still need to be careful. Please hold my hand or my arm the whole time in case we need to make a quick escape, too."

"Are you sure this is worth it?" she asked.

"Definitely. We need supplies, you need a wand, and ideally we want some clothes so you'll look less like a muggle." He pulled out his wand. "Any requests on your appearance? I was going to go with something that looked non-descript Southern European for both of us, with extra bushy eyebrows for myself. I can change your hair colour or lengthen it, but I can't change its texture."

"That's fine, I guess," Hermione said. "I've never really considered that as an option."

"OK." Harry waved his wand over his head and an oily film seemed to descend over his body. A moment later, he did hers, giving them matching olive skin and bushy black hair.

"This is amazing," she said.

"It's a tremendously tricky Charm," Harry said. "We learnt it at the Auror Academy for disguises. If anyone asks, we're a married couple named Mark and Anne Winter who recently moved here from an unspecified country for personal reasons. On the off chance we run into anyone I know well, I'm going to need to let you do the talking, since I can't change our voices."

"That makes sense," Hermione said. "What if they keep pressing for information?"

Harry shrugged. "Ignore them. There's nothing illegal about walking around with a glamour on unless you're trying to impersonate a specific person, so anyone who tries to do anything more than question us will be on the wrong side of the law."

"Is...um...someone likely to try that sort of thing?" Hermione asked.

"No." Harry did his best to sound reassuring. "And I promise you that no one is going to do more than try, regardless."

She nodded nervously.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "This is a popular shopping district and it'll be the middle of the day. Now, I'll just get some money upstairs and then we can get going."

"I can pay for some of it," Hermione said.

"I'm afraid you can't," Harry said. "Wizarding Britain uses different money for some reason. Also, I don't think anyone is likely tracking your bank card, but you never know."

"Oh."

"Don't worry," he said. "At some point ten years from now when you're gainfully employed in the Wizarding World and have had a chance to save up, buy me a nice broomstick or something and we can call it even."

"I will," she said firmly, and he got the distinct impression that come hell or high water he was going to get a broomstick on September 27, 2014.

A few minutes later, after he'd stashed a couple of hundred galleons in a featherweight, space-expanded money pouch, he found himself facing down the floo with a nervously determined Hermione. "OK," he said, "just toss a bit of the powder in, wait till the flames turn green, step in, and clearly say 'Diagon Alley.'"