Forty Eight • Figures in the rain

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The rain calmed slightly and the streets began to fill with people. The smog you knew from Britain barely measured to the sheer weight of the air as you trudged along. The smog felt like drowning in smoke and car fumes, here on the street of New York it was like the smoke just weaved its way into everything; clothes, hair, even skin.

While on your venture to your only possible refuge from the storm. A shadowy figure came into view.

Leaning against the wall just beside an alleyway under the awning of the neighboring clothing boutique.

"Excuse me-" The ghastly face of a boy with glazed over eyes, making his way out of the shadows, "-May I give you a flyer, miss."

You turned slightly to look for Jacob and Queenie, only to see that they were long gone, much farther up the street.

You stumbled over your words slightly, "I suppose so." Was all you could muster.

A somber haze enveloped the boy in the rain. He wore only a thin shirt and a tattered vest that clung to his thin, skeletal frame. His dry hands held out a slightly soggy piece of paper out for you to take.

"Witches are real, miss. Be careful." The boy said. His head thrown into a vigorous nod that looked as though it hurt both his neck and head.

This was a puzzling situation. How did the boy know exactly? What did he really know?

"That's just silly play talk. Who put you up to this?" You questioned.

The boy, hesitant to reply looked about while rubbing his arm nervously. His foot tapped the cement sidewalk without remorse, the sole of his shoe coming up and down on its own from lack of good glue or stitches.

"There was this lady," the boy jittered slightly, "she's gone now I think... but I've still got flyers." His shaking had increased so much that water droplets flew off of his matted hair.

"I'll take them all off your hands. Just go somewhere, get dry and warm, get something to eat." You said.

The boy looked up from his small stack of flyers in disbelief. His grey eyes open wide and his brows shot up.

"That's right kind of you, but I've no money or home." The boy looked close to tears.

You shot your arms out and took the flyers from his weak grasp. Then you found your wallet and counted out a few pounds worth. The boy could exchange it for American dollars on his own.

"Take this then, and no more talk of witches or magic. They're just make-believe and eye tricks, they aren't real."

"Can I tell you a secret, miss?" The boy asked.

Slightly fear stricken, you nodded.

"I've seen it. This magic stuff. It's everywhere, and it's real."

You just shook your head again. "You're only young yet -don't waste that money."

You trod off down the street towards where you had seen your new acquaintances disappear.

A tall building came into view and the door to the lobby stood slightly ajar. Taking this as a possible clue you went in and followed the mucky boot tracks up to an apartment near the top floor.

Knocking lightly on the door foot steps came towards you and the door swung open.

"This is it." Jacob said.

There was a certain homey feeling to the small apartment. A warm smell of food cooking and clean linen filled the room as you stepped in.

Pans and cooking things floated about as supper was magically prepared.

"Glad you could make it." Queenie smiled.

"What took you so long?" Jacob asked.

You didn't respond immediately while you thought out some way of saying.

"She met someone," Queenie said, "a boy with flyers."

"Yes," you replied. "Does MACUSA know about this?"

"They know a lot of things that they do nothing about. That's the government for you." The blonde smiled sadly. "You need to get your wand permit tomorrow, so rest up. We don't want you getting deported."

You felt around your mildly soggy coat. There was no wand to be had.

"I don't have one. It's... It's in London. It's also broken." You said unhappily.

"We'll figure something out. Coffee?" Jacob said as he went to the kettle.

"Please, or maybe something stronger. I've such a headache. I feel like there's a lot more going on than I ever thought."

"There always is when magic is involved, believe me." Jacob laughed.

You knew that too, but now so far from Britain how could things be normal?

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