— Trigger Warnings › gore › language › violence

— Foreword

This canon-compliant adventure explores the universe of Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and the lore of Pottermore.

The story begins in the United States, though it will not stay confined there.

For anyone "on the fence" regarding this story, I recommend reading through at least the second chapter. Action and plot pacing increase with each chapter as the world becomes more magical.

~•~

ONE

Of Pumpkins & Predictability

-•-

Alexandra Austin began the thirteenth of October with the distinct lack of vigor that marked every day as far as she was concerned. She briskly exited her building through the northernmost entrance of Avalon Lofts, a conveniently located downtown apartment complex with about as much in common with King Arthur's Camelot as a conclave of tyrannical penguins. Alexandra, or Lex as she preferred, then plodded thirteen feet down 13th Street and onward through the front doors of her regular coffee shop.

Lex knew of at least three other coffee shops within a single block and had considered patronizing one of these entirely equivalent establishments instead, if for no other reason than to break up the monotony that had become her life. However, what would be the point? She reasoned that an overpriced coffee from the coffee shop on the corner of 13th and Elm would be just as mediocre and overpriced when purchased from the identical store on 14th and Birch. Liquid consumption, like everything else in her life, had become completely redundant.

Approximately seven minutes later, Lex stepped onto 13th Street once more and allowed the door to slam shut behind her with its predictable jingle. As she did practically every morning, Lex had ordered ahead to avoid standing idle any longer than was absolutely necessary. Today, however, an apparently new hire named Harold took twice as long as necessary to make her the wrong order.

After a mildly frustrating exchange in which she and Harold each competed to be the most agreeable about this coffee mishap, Harold finally allowed Lex to accept a nearly scalding but ultimately free cup of Pumpkin Spice Latte. Lex gave Harold a 50-cent barista tip in spite of the delay. After all, it was her birthday.

Carefully sipping her latte, Lex stood idly at the busy street corner. She stared so intently at the pedestrian crossing signal across the street that an outside observer might have thought, for all the world, that the crossing signal's illuminated red hand was the most interesting thing in Lex's life.

You see, Lex had developed an unhealthy habit of withdrawing until the insistent world dragged her out of her reverie once again. Between point A and point B, Lex would escape into the numerous fantastical stories within her head, only resurfacing when some minor course-correction or mindless social interaction was needed. Indeed, at some point the worlds within her had become more rewarding than the world without…

Of course, she hadn't always been so detached from reality. Once upon a time, Lex was arrogant and proud with a talent to back it up. She had been raised to believe in the spectacular rewards that hard work and genius provide. And more importantly, she had been raised to believe that it all mattered. Her father had once remarked that she had a "mind like a bulldog," because she'd latch onto her goals and refuse to let go.

No one said that about her anymore.

As her thoughts lazily wandered back into more realistic territories, she mused over her current mental state. When had she become this zombie? When did life become this bleak bland haze?

Her thoughts quickly spiraled downward into an abyss of hopelessness. She thought of all the illusions that had crumbled and all the nightmares that had taken their place. More than anything, she wanted something to believe in again. There had to be something more than this… A fleeting moment of pain struck her as she thought of all she had lost.

Please, let there be something more, she cried soundlessly.

She imagined the plea being released from her aching chest and flung through the atmosphere, achieving escape velocity only to forever drift through the endless universe beyond.

A plea… Almost like a prayer… Lex mused, before quickly swatting the analogy aside.

Spirituality was yet another casualty of her tortured existence. For God's sake, she didn't even know if she had a soul! Her face miserably contorted as she held back tears, yet any passerby would simply assume that Lex found her Pumpkin Spice Latte distasteful rather than her own existential ignorance of the meaning of life.

Ugh!

Only a few minutes waiting for the traffic lights to change, and already she was lost in her inner anguish! This is why Alexandra Austin didn't idle any longer than necessary. This is why Alexandra Austin's mind was now less like a bulldog and more like the bulldog's tender chow. Lex had once believed that reality mattered and that she could change it, and then… reality bit back.

At 9:13 AM on October 13, 2016, a young lean auburn-haired woman crossed Elm Street as she begged the universe for perhaps the millionth time to let there be something more. And on this day, which she considered just as mundane and unfulfilling as the last, something spectacular happened… the universe answered.

Mike Herrera began the thirteenth of October in a characteristic fit of rage. In fact, none of his acquaintances would have been surprised to see his glowering face speeding down Elm Street in his ruby red Ferrari, rudely gesturing at his fellow drivers as he committed at least 3 separate traffic violations.

One police officer nearly flipped on her car's siren before frightfully recognizing the fuming man behind one thick erect middle finger. Mike Herrera was not someone you messed with on a good day, and today was clearly not one of his good days… The young officer decided an encounter with Mike was not worth the relatively small monetary donation a speeding ticket would raise for the police department. Thus, she carefully rolled her police car back into the shadows of the small alley, which happened to be perfect for ambushing unsuspecting vehicles.

Once free of the immediate danger, the officer returned her attention to her coffee where she felt it most belonged. Savoring a sip of warm velvety caffeinated goodness, she justified her actions with the earnest thought Coffee may occasionally cause migraines, but Mike Herrera certainly does!

Mike had received some rather unpleasant news just that morning. Apparently, his soon-to-be-ex-wife felt it was not enough to take a large sum of his income in the divorce settlement, but now he must also pay extra damages for alleged spousal abuse and infidelity. This did not sit well with Mike. There was nothing he hated more than being forced to take responsibility for something he didn't do - and Mike Herrera was never guilty.

Flooring the gas pedal less than a half-second after the traffic light turned green, Mike flew past the silent police car and across 12th Street. Though it shouldn't have been possible at his current speed, Mike somehow managed to sneer effectively at every worn urban building and its inhabitants. This neighborhood was not up-to-par with Mike's usual demanding standards, and he intended to make it known.

In fact, the only reason Mike had graced a visit to this wretched place was to visit his soon-to-be-ex-mistress. After their rather violent spat this morning, he planned to have her evicted from the apartment he'd been renting for their rendezvous. She had quite obnoxiously blamed him for some grievance or another. What was wrong with everyone today? Everyone kept telling him to take responsibility, and no, Mike Herrera did not do responsibility.

"So this is all the gratitude I get from those dirty hoes," Mike spat bitterly as he pumped hard on the gas pedal.

WHAM!

At 9:13 AM on October 13, 2016, an angry, albeit handsome, Panamanian man with a Bluetooth tanline accelerated straight over a young lean auburn-haired woman crossing Elm Street as she begged the universe for perhaps the millionth time to let there be something more.

Mike Herrera's engine idled for exactly three seconds, while an expression of bastardized fear and sympathy flitted across his fine features. This rare moment of concern plastered upon the face of a man whom Alexandra Austin would no doubt dub "completely predictable" lasted for exactly two seconds, before Mike Herrera finally remembered the kind of day he was having. Mike decided that "two bitches worth of problems" was already enough, thank you very much. In fact, he had reached his quota for the foreseeable future, and if there was one thing Mike Herrera knew, it was that he did not do responsibility.

Mike sped away, Ferrari tires squealing, while clouds of muffler exhaust floated over the gruesome scene he left in his wake. Deep crimson pools of blood swirled into the scalding-hot puddle of mediocre Pumpkin Spice Latte splashed across the pavement. The gory mixture soaked into the broken woman's jagged bones, matted auburn hair, and torn golden skin. Little did Mike know that the universe had just granted him a supporting role in what was perhaps the most spectacular event of Alexandra Austin's soon-to-be-spectacular life.

Lex retained just enough mental awareness to silently observe through blurred vision the stereotypical position in which she found herself. Hospital staff leaned over her, fussing as they anxiously wheeled her down a bland hospital corridor. Wheels squeaked over what was most likely linoleum flooring, while beige ceiling tiles flew by overhead. The tiles were partially obscured by three masked people draped in mint green scrubs. A man in a white jacket hovered about her feet as he trotted after her cart, periodically glancing down at his clipboard.

"Let's see… Alexandra Austin… Oh, no! It's her birthday," a silky male voice crooned.

Despite the searing pain in what she could best identify as her "bones," Lex inwardly groaned at the man's comment. Was it ever a good day to get hit by a car? Gee, you see a broken bleeding body and naturally the most disturbing part is that it's the body's birthday…

Lex had grown accustomed to pain over the years. However, it had been quite a while since she'd experienced a pain so overwhelmingly physical. Agony enveloped her like a scratchy blanket, and she felt the most accurate analogy for her current sensory state was probably "suffocating while traveling through a wood chipper."

Meanwhile, amidst the background noise of this extremely plain hospital, somebody was gasping on loop. It was a horrible desperate sucking noise that Lex wished would stop immediately. Of course, about a minute later, Lex realized that the sucking somebody was Lex… Her chest was shuddering uncontrollably against a plastic-wrapped cushion, the plastic's flimsy whooshing sound mingling in morbid symphony with her hyperventilation.

Her body had seemingly abandoned her mind and taken on one of its own. However, the loss of control didn't bother her quite as much as the growing numbness. Where her body wasn't screaming in terror, there was a cold absence slowly spreading across her limbs. As this lack of feeling spread, the sensation of pain draining away with all the rest, Lex's heart sunk in her crushed and flattened chest. Through some quirk of evolution, her body knew. It just knew - she was dying.

Vaguely aware that the motion of the cart had stopped, Lex's eyelids collapsed wearily as her consciousness faded into a silent predictable darkness.

Immeasurable moments of time slipped past before Lex's consciousness slowly returned. Her heavy eyelids grappled with gravity for one last sight of the outside world. Everything internal and external seemed to be fading away, as if she were a human shopping mall at closing time. Inside, her emptied stores were closing down one by one, lights flickering off, metal grates screeching towards the floor.

A warm rough hand brushed lightly over what was left of Lex's palm, and amidst a cacophony of panicked internal voices, a hushed voice whispered, Is this the last contact I'll have with another human being?

Lex had thought often of death, the possibility of nonexistence always terrifying. Now, as she faced that vast uncertain abyss, she knew that she wasn't ready to die - no matter how painful it was to keep on breathing. In a burst of desperation, her eyelids beat back lethargy one last time.

Success.

As if she were mentally treading water in an endless stormy sea, her dying brain struggled to capture and process as much of her final scene as possible.

A man in a white lab coat stooped over her, his hands busy with one of the many tubes extending from her body. His cool blue eyes twinkled as the corners of his lips extended upwards into a gentle smile. Every detail from the flaring of his nostrils to the way light bounces about moist human corneas seemed infinitely important, despite her certainty these observations would die with her in mere milliseconds.

As her eyelids banished her to drown in the darkness once more, the man brushed her hand a second time and whispered in a voice soft as silk, "Happy birthday, Alexandra."

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Lex's ears were first to wake. There were distant voices, hidden behind beeps and hisses that were steadily emitted from what sounded like a mechanical pump. In fact, as she listened more carefully, Lex was quite certain she could identify the functions of several machines within the room, though her knowledge of the medical terminology merely extended to "vital signs monitor" and "air pump thingy."

A burning passion for science had once powered Lex through a degree and into her current occupation. However, that passion had died away along with everything else… Now the knowledge merely persisted where the spark had long since faded, leaving a hollow echo of the woman she once was.

Somewhere between musing over the nature of consciousness and how her decision to become a female engineer most likely assisted in the decline of her social life, Alexandra Austin made a startling discovery. She was thinking.

This discovery led to yet another startling discovery - she wasn't dead yet.

Initiating a full-body scan, Lex determined that not only was she very much alive, but her torso felt less crushed and her limbs felt less numb than before. With renewed vigor, her eyelids finally fluttered open.

She was indeed in a hospital bed, tubes protruding from her body in every direction, as if she was about to enter The Matrix. Hanging on the wall past her feet was a square picture frame filled with a stock photo of a beagle contemplating a dandelion. Lex surmised that the beagle must be deliberating over what wish might possibly provide it the highest net gain of subjective satisfaction, and perhaps mulling over whether or not putting its faith in the reproductive cells of a flower made a statement on the hopelessness of the canine condition.

By the time Lex had finished analyzing the beagle, the heart rate monitor in the room was sounding quite alarmed and the distant voices in the hallway were sounding less distant. Lex would have sighed in exasperation was there not a feeding tube currently shoved down her esophagus. From the cries of Doctor, Doctor, she's awake! to the dramatic beeps of the machine at her bedside, the scene was just too utterly predictable.

Leave it to me to be bored by my own near-death, she thought grimly.

The only thing missing from this otherwise cliché scene was a table or chair full of balloons, flowers, and "Get Well" cards.

This realization cut through Lex's heart with surgical precision, her chest clenching from the emotional pain of her darkest nightmares come alive. She had almost died… and no one had noticed.

It took several days for the hospital staff to locate and contact Lex's immediate family. Another couple of days passed, and then Lex practically transformed into a human telemarketing center, fielding calls from both immediate and extended family members. Each relative gave their sincerest apologies for their absence in what must have been a tragic event. She politely accepted their profuse apologies and plethora of excuses, and of course, politely thanked her parents for footing the medical bill.

Over the course of the next week, however, Lex's hospital room returned to its familiar silence. Alone, she was poked, prodded, scanned, and subjected to the horrors of telenovelas and artificially flavored hospital food. By the end of the week, she still wasn't sure which was more bland between the food and the decor.

Still, she was lucky to be alive - a "miracle" they had called it. Her feeding tube had been removed just days after her initial awakening. She soon graduated to solid edibles and sensational visits to the adjoining bathroom, where she could honestly say that she'd never been so grateful for a toilet.

Lex learned that it had taken two surgeries and a full-body blood transfusion to stabilize her vital signs. The hospital's resident urgent care specialist had intervened with the blood transfusion and even donated his own blood. It seemed quite odd, but she wasn't about to criticize him on how he did his job - he clearly was doing something right.

The doctor was still recovering from his large blood donation, but she was promised a visit from him later in the week. Lex looked forward to thanking the man, though she was bitterly aware that he would be her only visitor.

On the morning of Friday, October 21st, Alexandra Austin fidgeted in her overused hospital bed, glowering crankily at the television set bolted to the top-right corner of the cubical room. Why waste a perfectly good ceiling fixture on what is perhaps the least visible location in the room? She wondered mockingly whether or not this was an intentional act, intended to motivate patients to exercise their recovering neck muscles and limbs. Ultimately, she decided in cynicism that the television was placed there simply because someone had been too lazy to move the framed beagle photo.

Lex's inner engineer continuously cringed at the inefficiencies of the hospital's management system, her imagination tormenting her with every inevitable insight into the widespread disorder beyond the confines of this single room. However, her torture by way of inefficiencies and out-of-order Gilmore Girls reruns was mercilessly relieved by the arrival of the urgent care specialist, Lex's selfless savior.

Two raps of thick knuckles against hollow wood drew Lex's attention from Lorelai's latest escapade to the door.

"Why, hello there, Miracle Girl!" boomed a man in a white lab coat.

Dazzling white teeth gleamed behind a weatherman-worthy smile. The man wore his dark hair slicked back, exposing a chiseled jaw and angular features. Lex paused and waited for him to announce I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV.

When the man didn't oblige, she settled for an unenthusiastic Hello.

"Hello, hello, Miss Austin," the man continued, oblivious to the fact that he'd now greeted Lex three times, "I'm Doctor Goldstein, M.D. You may have heard my name around the hospital already, but allow me to introduce myself anyway."

Lex gave a brisk nod, wincing at the tenderness of the muscles along her neck. Unfortunately, she had been freed from her neck brace only two days prior.

"Ouch! Careful, careful, little lady - that neck is still tender!" he laughed, while stating the obvious, "We wouldn't want you hurting yourself all over again, now would we? No, no, not after all the effort I've put into putting you back together! You may recall that I donated you several liters worth of blood - not all straight from the vein, of course, but a splendid birthday present nonetheless."

Goldstein placed particular emphasis on the word "birthday," as if Lex hadn't actually been staying in a hospital this whole time, but rather on a cruise ship - and he'd just gifted her the ship.

Lex very easily determined that she distinctly disliked this Goldstein. She hadn't always been cynical and mistrusting, but after a handful of betrayals and heartbreaks one learns to identify the warning signs when presented. Dr. Goldstein exuded an undeniable air of self-importance, practically feeding off of every affirmation of his high status and good deeds. Quite predictably, he had paused expectantly at her bedside, awaiting her earnest agreement and validation.

She nodded slowly, wincing each time her chin neared her chest. However, Dr. Goldstein seemed to care significantly less about the "hurting yourself" part of his previous statement and significantly more about recognition for what a splendid "giver" he was. Ignoring her discomfort, he continued on with his speech.

"I've developed quite the reputation around the hospital and, dare I say, the country as a miracle worker, and, might I say, you have been my most successful case to date. Why, when you came to me, your limbs mangled, organs failing, blood almost entirely drained, no one could have expected you'd live until noon! But I said, Goldstein, today is the day to work your magic," he chuckled softly before resuming his monologue, "and, lo and behold, I did! Let it never be said that Goldstein doesn't give all! Now, I know you must be gushing with gratitude, Miss Austin, but believe you me - knowing I saved another human life is all the gratitude I need."

Lex was grateful - life being important and all - but her cynicism could not ignore the obvious signals that this man's "charity" had nothing to do with her or her life. Dr. Goldstein's every expression and intonation seemed better-suited to a man who had just splinted a baby bird's wing or pulled a cat out of a tree than a man addressing a human being who'd just suffered extreme blunt force trauma. The way he spoke, he must have imagined himself a god, tending to a crowd of wretched animals and saving lives on a whim.

"Now, Miss Austin," Goldstein whispered seriously, his face growing stern, "I couldn't help but notice that no one has bothered to send you so much as a card. I only save lives, but even I can't change the cards you're dealt. You may feel alone, but as you go forth into the world, I'd like to think that a part of me goes with you… At least, for the next month or so. Until your blood replaces mine, you see."

He laughed heartily at his own "joke" before assuming a valiant pose to help Lex down the hall. The thought of any part of this man inside her was disturbing to say the least, but she endured his incessant chatter the rest of the way to patient checkout. After he'd signed some paperwork, flirted with the desk attendant, and repeated his story to the enthralled woman, Lex offered Goldstein her sincerest thanks. This earned a series of hearty slaps on a particularly painful portion of her back. Needless to say, Lex was entirely relieved when Dr. Goldstein finally departed.

Gathering up her personal effects and avoiding a glance at the treatment charge receipt for as long as possible, Lex trudged out the sliding glass doors at the main entrance of the ultrabland hospital. Tears welled in her eyes as she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass.

Her face was blackened and swollen, bruises covering over half of her face. Separated by a puffy nose, her usually bright honey-colored eyes appeared dull and glazed. No wonder her personal bathroom had lacked mirrors…

Lex was not a vain woman, but she had never before faced what it truly meant to be "ugly." As she walked down the busy street, people either gaped in open disgust or discreetly attempted to avoid staring. She immediately regretted not calling a cab from the reception desk.

In yet another miracle of life, Lex's cellphone had survived the crash unscathed, but alas, it had been returned to her battery uncharged. Thus, even if there was someone she felt comfortable calling for immediate evacuation, she was currently incapable. Without her smartphone's GPS, without a map, and high on painkillers, Lex had to admit it - ugh, she was lost.

Several minutes later, Lex was immensely grateful that she lived in a city. It had only been a short walk to a bustling shopping center, and from there it was a simple matter to find a clothing store peddling a set of fuzzy earmuffs, a scarf, and a knit beanie cap. The woman behind the register gave Lex a sympathetic smile as Lex immediately pulled off the tags and stuffed the lot over her head.

Then, feeling much less uncomfortable, Lex strode down several winding lanes until she finally stumbled upon a cozy coffee shop. She had almost missed it, as it lay off of the main road, tucked away inside an alley. However, the shop's outlandish decor easily compensated for the shop's unfortunate location.

A series of inviting Jack-O-Lanterns lined both sides of the narrow alleyway, both lines culminating in a fiercely festive storefront at the alley's end. Gorgeous multi-colored spider webs traced from brick walls to a glittering red sign reading "The Bloody Banshee." The words appeared to bubble and sway in the lantern light, as if composed of real blood. Even though the name was less-than-intuitive, the brightly-lit interior was clearly that of a perfectly average coffee shop.

Plodding down the short alleyway, the building loomed wider and wider as she neared the front door. Lex wondered absently how this city's planners had managed to waste such prime real estate. At least three additional stores could've fit into the wide space at the end of the alley and even more along the alley walls. If only the narrow front of the alley was built as wide as the back…

"Seriously. What is with the architects in this city?" Lex muttered, her voice rasping against her sore throat.

Through several floor-length wooden windows, she spied gleaming countertops, a jolly barista, and modern granite tables. All in all, the scene was entirely too familiar. Despite the outside decor, the inside looked just like what she'd expect to see in any of the numerous coffee shops around the block. Sighing at the predictability of it all, she plied open the front door.

Shocked, Lex had to admit it - the scene greeting her was anything but predictable.

Instead of a coffee shop, The Bloody Banshee appeared to be a quaint traditional pub. Though she hadn't noticed any customers through the windows, patrons were everywhere, lounging about long wooden tables and perching atop a line of bar stools surrounding the now-wooden bar.

Even more unexpected was the crowd's attire. Halloween festivities were apparently in full swing… One man in starry purple robes and a wizard's hat sat by the bar, chatting merrily with a young lady holding a witch's hat and broom.

Another group of men sat around a table towards the back of the pub, outwardly channeling Van Helsing. They wore long buckle-abundant leather cloaks and thick knee-high boots. Their otherwise impressive cloaks were failing miserably to cover the glinting silver tools and weaponry, which were pocketed and strapped to nearly every reachable limb underneath.

Turning her gaze upwards to a balcony seating area, Lex was fairly certain she locked eyes with a hardcore vampire fan - and not of the Twilight variety. As their eyes met, he scowled indifferently and stuffed a newspaper in front of his face.

A few more eyes darted in her direction, but the gawkers all casually returned to their conversations. No one appeared to be particularly concerned with Lex and her ridiculous bundle of clothing.

Pulling her coat tighter, Lex ambled over to the bar. It wasn't the coffee shop she was expecting but it'd be rude to just turn and walk out. Besides, wasn't she looking for something less predictable anyway?

"You wouldn't happen to serve Pumpkin Spice Lattes would you?" Lex asked with an uncomfortable chuckle.

The bartender, a gaunt woman with dark brooding eyes, gave Lex a quick once-over and laughed appreciatively, "Well, aren't you darling! I s'pose you didn't have time to change?"

The woman leaned behind the bar and poured an orange liquid into a glass.

"Err… I would have, if I'd known ahead of time," Lex replied, glancing around at all the die-hard Halloween fans, "but the past few days have been kind of crazy, and well, I guess you could say I'm just not feeling up to it."

Lex was now glad that the scarf was concealing her embarrassed expression in addition to all the bruises.

"That kind of day, huh? What happened? Not this Scourer business, I hope," said the woman, her expression suddenly stony.

She slapped a tankard of orange liquid onto the bar in front of Lex, its contents partially sloshing over the side. Was the bartender always so careless or did this Scourer business really have her that riled up?

Of course, Lex had no idea what a Scourer was, nor did she care. She was more concerned with the mystery drink placed before her. What was it with people mishandling her orders lately? At least Harold had actually waited to receive a drink order. In this instance, Lex hadn't given an order at all, but simply asked a question. Ugh, she hated it when servers just made assumptions…

Heaving out a deep sigh, Lex went ahead and took a swig from her tankard, hoping to avoid the same pointless and polite discussion she'd had with Harold nearly a week ago. She was pleasantly surprised to taste a rich medley of pumpkins, vanilla, and spice on her tongue.

"That bad, huh?" pressed the woman, her tanned skin stretching taut over her bony frowning face.

Blissfully distracted by her delicious beverage, Lex briefly wondered if the woman was referring to the drink. However, as she turned her gaze once more to the bartender, Lex quickly revised her previous assumption. She was still on about these Scourers...

Lex tugged her thick scarf down, exposing her battered face and explaining with mock-cheer, "Let's just say my birthday wasn't all it was cracked up to be."

The woman gasped loudly and brought a bejeweled hand to her chest. Her emerald-green nails were curved long and sharp like claws, and to Lex's surprise, a teary-eyed look of concern crossed the woman's dark features.

Lex hurriedly gulped down a few more mouthfuls of the bright orange liquid in her mug. Unsurprisingly, drinking was much easier with her face uncovered…

"Oh, darling, I am so sorry," said the woman, her lower lip pouted and her voice wavering slightly, "Those damn Scourers are a plague! A fucking plague! Just when you think it's safe… I barely step foot outside anymore."

Lex shook her head in sympathetic concern, though she had no earthly idea what the woman was referring to. The lady was clearly agitated, and Lex felt it unwise to continue any further with this particular conversation. Under normal circumstances, she would have set her own story straight and politely inquired, What the hell is a Scourer?

However, today was no ordinary day. After surviving both a car crash and Dr. Goldstein, Lex was beyond exhausted. She had allotted herself just enough willpower and discipline to charge her phone, obtain a ride home, and make it upstairs to her bed. Thus, after another deep swig from her tankard, Lex eagerly returned to her original business.

She asked as gently as possible, "Miss, do you have any power plugs or a phone charger that I could use?"

Lex was met with a vacant stare. The woman tilted her head to the side, as if the answer would spontaneously fall from her ear.

"I'm sorry, but what's a 'charger'? Phones are no-maj contraptions, aren't they?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"Uh… I'm going to take that as a no…" Lex said, struggling to hide the exasperation in her voice.

Lex was unsure what rock this woman had been living under, but it must have been a very heavy, very thick rock. Standing abruptly from her stool, she pulled her purse out of the disposable plastic "Personal Effects" bag she'd received at the hospital. Next, she yanked out her wallet.

"I need to get home and rest," Lex stated flatly, "How much do I owe you for the…"

She trailed off as she remembered that, while tasty, she still had no idea what she just drank.

"The pumpkin juice?" the woman finished helpfully.

"Yes, the pumpkin juice," Lex replied with a smile, before covering her face once more with the scarf.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by the bartender. Lex's scarf-covering must have reminded the woman of Scourers, uncharged phones, and other unpleasant things, for the woman immediately took pity on Lex and refused to accept any form of payment.

"Darling, you've had a hard enough day as it is," she finished with a smile, "It's about time someone gave you a break."

The woman's compassion was touching, even if it was somewhat misguided. Not even Lex's family had expressed this much concern over her welfare. Perhaps her friends would've shown her comparable concern… but that would require letting friends back into her life first. And Lex just wasn't comfortable burdening others with her personal problems.

Tearing up for the second time that day, Lex was overcome by a curiosity she'd thought dead and buried. In yet another unexpected turn of events, on a day already full-to-the-brim with the unexpected, Lex actually felt like connecting with another living soul.

"Thank you so much. I… I can't tell you how…" Lex began, but stopped herself before her feelings gushed out in pathetic discourse, "I'm sorry, Miss. I don't believe I got your name. I'm Alexandra, Alexandra Austin."

"But you can call me Lex," she added as an afterthought.

Lex was clearly out of practice with the whole "socializing" thing.

"Nice to meet you, Lex," the bartender replied, her eyes crinkling at the corners, "I'm Wyomi Wolfe, overworked owner of this humble establishment."

She bent her tall thin frame into a sarcastic bow before continuing, her expression softened, "You're always welcome at the Bloody Banshee. Please come back and visit me sometime."

"Thank you again, Wyomi," Lex replied.

She hurried out the door before anyone could see the warm tears streaming down her face. Perhaps no one would notice while her face was tucked away behind several layers of scarf, but Lex wasn't taking any chances.

Walking briskly down the alley and onto the main road, she allowed herself a moment to wipe away the wet streaks from her eyes. Lex had been raised to avoid emotional displays, especially in public. Unaccustomed to such kindness, she had simply been caught unprepared for this sudden swell of positive emotions. She finally suppressed her tears, resolved to behave more maturely next time, and proceeded down the main street once more.

It took an exasperating forty-three minutes to find a traditional cab, since nowadays most people, herself included, used transportation apps in place of taxis. However, such applications required a functioning smartphone, and hers was still stubbornly on bedrest.

City lights streaked by the cab window as Lex drifted in and out of sleep, her face pressed awkwardly against the glass. After what felt like only a brief moment, she awoke to an impatient Ahem.

Lex clumsily handed the cab driver his fare, along with a mediocre tip. She then shuffled into the nearest elevator, barrelled through her front door, and collapsed unceremoniously upon her bed. The sun was still high in the sky at 1:04 PM on October 21st of 2016, when Alexandra Austin faded into a blissful and dreamless sleep.

Consciousness returned to Lex at 6:01 AM on Saturday, October 22nd. Opening her eyes to darkness, Lex marveled at how she had awoken so early. Recollecting the events of the past week-and-a-half sent her crashing back to reality faster than a ruby red Ferrari.

...Too soon? Lex concluded that if she had to endure the medical fallout of a car crash then she should at least be permitted the privilege of morbidly joking about it.

Meandering over to the bathtub, she lowered her aching body into a steaming bubble bath. She wasn't usually a fan of the floral fragrances one must typically endure in a bubble bath, but at the moment it was far too difficult to look at her own body, covered as it was in sickly bruises and thin stitched surgical scars. Yes, while cloaked in bubbles, she could adequately pretend that her body appeared as normal as ever.

Soaking in both warm water and unburdened thought, her mind drifted back to the events of the previous day, The Bloody Banshee in particular. Speaking with Wyomi started obnoxiously enough but ultimately it felt… good. It had been a long while since she'd felt truly positive emotions, so something good was definitely worth thinking about.

Frowning slightly as she shifted her weight onto different bruises, Lex recounted all of the oddities surrounding Wyomi and her pub. The drug cocktail she'd taken the day before was starting to wear thin, and though that meant she felt physical pain more sharply, it meant her mind was now sharper as well. As her mind-fog lifted, Lex grew certain that she'd let several key observations slip past her unchallenged.

Firstly, there was the matter of the bizarre optical illusions in the alleyway. From the main street, she could've sworn the Bloody Banshee was the same width as its neighbors. Yet, the building's interior, as well as the view from the front stoop, was most certainly at least triple the size of the neighboring stores. Perhaps the magnification was simply a side-effect of all the pain-killers she'd taken… But, if that was the case, why wasn't she experiencing these strange warping effects anywhere else?

Secondly, there was the matter of The Bloody Banshee's trick window. She'd heard of one-way glass, of course, but this went a step beyond. She didn't think it was possible to obscure one side of the glass, while leaving it transparent on the other. Was it wallpaper? A projection? Regardless of the implementation, what kind of pub plasters a scene of a fake store interior onto their windows? That was blatant false-advertising.

Thirdly, yes, thirdly, Lex growled in growing frustration, "What the hell is a Scourer?"

She'd gathered that there were some tragic mishappenings surrounding this group of ne'er do wells, but the true meaning of the word 'Scourer' remained a mystery. Even worse, she had no hopes of asking Wyomi for more information, as Lex had already carelessly implied that she herself was a victim.

Climbing carefully out of the bath, Lex resolved to return to The Bloody Banshee later that morning, while killing two birds with one rather large stone. She'd invite one of her closest friends along, one of the many she hadn't spoken to in ages. As an added bonus to his company, her friend could ask all of her ignorant questions about Scourers and such at The Bloody Banshee… no need for Lex to lose face.

With a wicked smirk, Lex delicately dressed her bruised body and combed her hair. This shiny new proactive attitude was completely out of her ordinary, but lately it seemed that her life and person had been flipped upside down and shaken out. So, what wasn't out of the ordinary was probably the better question.

One long phone call of furious scolding later, Will was on his way over to Lex's apartment. Despite his generally carefree and easygoing personality, Will was irate that Lex hadn't bothered calling anyone for support. He made several good points, and Lex couldn't help but feel a bit foolish. She was always so wary of misplacing her trust, so much so that she'd managed to convince herself that she was completely alone, even though she clearly wasn't.

Will was dropping everything to escort her downtown, and Lex was warmly reminded of the reason they were friends in the first place. For the second time in a mere two days, she felt a resurgence of happiness and human affection. There were people who genuinely cared for her and her well-being. She was not alone.

Will showed up at her door, still furious. Through the peephole, she spied a collared tartan button-up perfectly accentuating smooth ebony skin. Slowly cracking open the front door, Lex steeled herself for the impending tirade. However, as Will caught sight of her face, his eyes drifting over her swollen cheeks, blackened eyes, and scarred neck, his anger visibly melted away. Mouth agape, he hesitantly stepped forward and loosely cradled her in his arms.

They stood, gently embracing in the doorway for another minute-and-a-half. Neither dared speak a word. In her tenderized state, even the softest brush of fabric against her skin burned, but Lex refused to spoil the kind gesture. Finally, Will unwrapped his arms and stepped back, his eyes still wide.

"You, uh…. You look like shit, Lex," he said very matter-of-factly as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark-washed denim jeans.

Whatever she'd been expecting, it most certainly wasn't that. Overwhelmed by the tumultuous experiences of the past few days and her equally tumultuous emotions, Lex finally reached breaking point. Air bubbling up from deep within her chest and seemingly bursting out from her lungs, she surrendered to a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Will stared blankly upon her for a moment, before the contagion spread and his booming guffaws joined her infectious laughter.

Twenty-three minutes later, Will and Lex walked along the oddly named Quahog Street, quite close to Lex's favorite hospital. Lex was attempting to retrace her steps to The Bloody Banshee, but her memory kept failing her. She was back on pain-killers, and there was only so much information you could squeeze out of a drug-addled brain…

Though Lex commended the city's planners for plotting a mostly logical city street grid, there were nonetheless plenty of older winding streets and alleyways to get lost in. Some of the older streets were even paved with cobblestone, trailing past preserved colonial buildings and repurposed stables. The old carriage houses with their boarded-over barn doors stood as somber reminders of a simpler time, a time when even at full charge your smartphone apps couldn't get you home safely.

Lex and Will wandered aimlessly through the streets for quite some time, spotting nothing familiar. Meanwhile, Lex was teased relentlessly for her uncanny ability to get lost in a city with perfectly adequate signage. Several rhetorical inquiries of whether or not Lex had taken her medication received several of her most scathing glares.

Secretly, a thorny worry was blossoming in Lex's drug-addled mind, roots of distress digging deeper and deeper. A doubt had been planted, the possibility that The Bloody Banshee was nothing more than a figment of her imagination, a dirty trick played on a rattled psyche. This gnawing fear spurred her ever-onward. Perhaps this turn… Perhaps that alleyway over there…

As the afternoon sun peeked out from behind the grey clouds inhabiting the murky sky, Will finally convinced Lex to stop for a late lunch. Unsurprisingly, it was much easier to navigate to an arbitrary location than to a specific one, and within mere minutes they'd found an entire street full of lunch options. Yes, if only it was as easy to find The Bloody Banshee…

Lex and Will selected a clean hip American café for their impromptu meal. Usually, Lex would have preferred something more "exotic," but she'd been given strict instructions to go easy on her stomach for the next month.

Will guided her by the elbow through the front door and helped lower her gently into a seat by the window. She thanked him with a cheeky smile, while he merely rolled his eyes and plopped down across the table.

The interior of Café Alchemy was the epitome of industrial chic - the industry being chemical. Glasses of water were served in scientific beakers, along with a shared carafe for refills, and each square granite table was covered by a tablecloth displaying The Periodic Table of Elements.

Will and Lex exchanged chemistry puns while waiting for their food to arrive. During a lull in the conversation, Lex gazed mindlessly across the street.

The buildings along this street lay in a flush row, their heights and widths identical to one another - all except one.

Directly across the street, the taller colonial-style buildings parted, making room for a short brick alleyway. Most buildings along the street were whitewashed and painted in muted tones, probably due to some city ordinance or another for historical neighborhoods. The alley's walls, however, were composed of warm rust orange bricks and covered by emerald green moss manicured into the shape of ornate arrows. Each arrow pointed to the squat ruby red building nestled contentedly in the shade of the narrow alley.

Even from across the street, Lex could clearly see antique golden lampposts lighting a dignified cobblestone path leading to the shop. Warm golden light from the lamps danced beautifully against the surrounding brick, reminding Lex of autumn leaves. But most impressive of all was a brilliant sign, which seemed impossibly readable from this distance… It titled the building "Flourish & Fontaine." In clarification of the otherwise ambiguous brand name, a giant book levitated to the left of the sign, while a large quill danced about the sign's right corner.

Lex couldn't help but applaud the owner's ingenuity. It was such a brilliant display that she felt obligated to visit the little bookstore. From an engineering standpoint, it would be worth a look if only to examine the mechanisms operating the book and quill. The props floated to-and-fro so smoothly that they betrayed none of the metal poles or rope tethers that must inevitably extend to whatever machine powered the sophisticated sign.

"Hey, check it out!" she gasped, gesturing excitedly across the street.

To Lex's disappointment, Will hardly batted an eyelash. Instead, he stared quizzically out the window, lazily sipping on his beaker of water before replying.

"Check out what? What am I looking for?" he asked, completely nonchalant.

"Are you serious? The bookstore sitting right there! Flourish & Fontaine. Big floating book. Ringing any bells?"

With a huff, she swiveled in her chair and pointed a finger towards the cheery alleyway.

"At the end of that alley! Right there!"

For emphasis, Lex vigorously tapped the glass with her finger, earning her a scornful look from a passing waitress. Once satisfied that he was finally looking at the proper building, she settled back into a position more comfortable to her bruised body.

Will, however, was fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting to the neighboring tables. Inexplicably, his face wore a pained expression, and Lex wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or concerned or both.

They were briefly interrupted by the arrival of their respective meals, and Lex nibbled on her boring slice of toast while Will showered his salad in dressing. They each took a few bites of their respective meal before Will finally broke the silence with a deep sigh.

He started to explain, "Look… Lex, I know you've been through a lot this past week, and I want you to know I'm here for you, but I need you to trust me. You trust me, right?"

He waited expectantly for a response, his gaze boring into her own. Lex nodded slowly, very much confused.

"Right…" she said slowly.

"Lex," he said, taking another deep breath and speaking softly, as if even words might break her fragile form, "I need you to believe me when I say there is nothing there. There is no alley across the street. There is certainly no floating book. There is no Bloody Banshee pub."

"Hey, what the - what the heck…" Lex retorted eloquently, while trying desperately to deny that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, "No, no, no. You're wrong. The bookstore is right there. We just have to -"

"Stop."

Will held up a hand, his rigid expression quite foreign on his normally jovial face.

"We've been wandering the streets for hours now, and I've humored you, but enough is enough. You admit that you were too out-of-it to even remember street names, but somehow you also think that you weren't out-of-it when you stumbled into a mysterious cafe… that spontaneously turned into a pub… that was in the middle of a freaky Halloween party... that just so happens to not be listed anywhere online or on any map."

Lex knew it sounded stupid and irrational, but she still wasn't ready to accept defeat. Arming herself with a smoldering glare, she opened her mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted once more by Will, his sensitive eyes pleading.

"Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk here, okay? You almost died. This isn't about proving you right or wrong - this is about your health. You can't just go hiking all around town the day after you get out of the hospital. A few hours was already too much, but it seemed important, so I didn't say anything. I should've said something sooner and I'm sorry, but we really should go. You need rest."

He concluded his lecture with such an air of finality that Lex bitterly felt as though she'd just been reprimanded by one of her former college professors. She was under the influence of too many drugs… hallucinating… Why was this logic so difficult to accept?

Perhaps it was because she'd finally found something surprising and unexpected, something that made her feel good, even if just for an hour. And now there was a good chance that hour was yet another one of her mindless fantasies… Had her desire to escape become so pronounced that her brain was world-building on autopilot? It was terrifying to consider that these fictional places and people might simply fade away, alongside the drugs and all of the physical pain.

We should go. We should go he had said, and Lex had immediately thought Where? Where was she supposed to go? Once more, back to reality, back to normalcy and predictability.

Lex emphatically dug her heels into the floor, pushed back her chair, and stood to leave. Ignoring Will's protests, she strode out the door and onto the curb. She simply couldn't go back to the way things were. It would be like death - and she was now as qualified as anyone could be to make the comparison.

She hovered on the edge of the curb for a moment, anxiety rising in her chest. Crossing the street had become a bit of a sore subject… It was easy enough crossing the streets while surrounded by crowds or with Will holding her arm, but now the crowds had thinned and Will would not be accompanying her.

She glanced behind her at Café Alchemy, making eye contact with Will through the window. He angrily threw his arms over his head and gestured for her to return.

Instead, she stubbornly returned her gaze to Flourish & Fontaine. Its warm inviting scenery still stood in stark contrast to all of the subdued colors and architecture surrounding it.

"I'm not crazy," Lex muttered angrily, while a passing couple hastily veered away from the sidewalk curb, giving her a wide berth as they continued down the street.

Aside from the couple she'd apparently spooked, the street was mostly empty of both pedestrians and cars, with only a lone automobile gliding by every minute or so. She briefly considered detouring to one of the designated crosswalks, but neither the crosswalks nor the traffic lights had been much help last week. So, trembling slightly, she took one hesitant step onto the asphalt.

Her rational mind was a bit perturbed that she'd allowed herself to get this worked up over a single mundane pub visit, but Practicality was staying mercifully silent. This was important. It mattered.

With a final glance over her shoulder, Lex saw Will rushing to pay the bill. She was glad she'd only ordered toast, as she wasn't typically the sort of person to leave others to pay her share.

I'll make it up to him, Lex thought with a grin.

Bookstores almost always had some small souvenirs or other useful items for sale, and when Will finally caught up with her, Lex planned to be standing smugly inside Flourish & Fontaine with an ironic postcard in hand.

Perhaps all the strange occurrences of the past few days would prove to be just as dull as everything else in the long run. Perhaps in time, The Bloody Banshee would become just as unremarkable to her as the coffee-shop-clones flanking her apartment complex. However, mysteries, such as what the hell a Scourer was, hadn't been solved yet, and Lex was not about to run back to predictable and boring.

With a deep breath, a wary look down the road in either direction, a brief shudder, and a cacophony of existential debate, Lex strode across Quahog Street and onto a beautifully lit cobblestone path. Alexandra Austin wasn't going back to predictable and boring - Lex was going onward to Flourish & Fontaine.

On Saturday, October 22nd, at 4:54 PM, Theodard Fontaine reclined comfortably against a plush couch comprised entirely of toadstools. Ironically, with his portly frame and rotund belly, Theodard himself closely resembled an overgrown toad perched precariously on its stool. Against the lacy ruffles of a crisp white button-up shirt, a red polka dot bow tie peeked out from behind Theodard's short pointed beard, which had been dyed a jolly mint green.

Even without the green hair, Theodard bore little resemblance to his namesake, one of the original twelve MACUSA Aurors. Of course, that mattered little to a man such as Theodard, who preferred the company of books to people and the magic of a library to magic from a wand. Let Agilbert chase after fame and glory, said Theodard always, What is fame next to a good book?

Much to his parents' dismay, Theodard had never aspired for the limelight or shown what his family members deemed to be an adequate amount of ambition. Thus, Theodard's younger brother, Agilbert Fontaine, current Headmaster of the world-renowned Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had always been the shining star of the Fontaine household. And yet, despite Mr. and Mrs. Fontaine's obvious preference for Agilbert, Theodard held no ill-will towards his little brother. He was actually quite proud of Agilbert's accomplishments. In fact, every time Agilbert made the papers, Theodard's book sales soared, increasing by at least 20 percent. Nothing like real quantifiable "family value," Theodard always said…

Though relatively new to the book distributor scene, Flourish & Fontaine benefited greatly from its two proud family names. The Flourish family, best known for their co-ownership of Flourish & Blotts, had shouldered the bulk of the financial burden during the bookstore's infancy. In America, any ties to the more-prominent magical families of Europe brought a business or product instant reputability. After years of his and Agilbert's hard work, however, Theodard was proud to say that the Fontaine name now bought more lasting traction in the American magical community than Flourish.

Twirling the tip of his thin mustache around his finger, Theodard flipped a page of The Darkest Wand, thoroughly engrossed in his third rereading. The elderly man's penchant for polka dots was matched only by his penchant for raunchy romance novels.

"Beautiful Brunette with a Wit to Match" squealed a high-pitched childlike voice as the front door opened then closed.

Theodard snapped his book shut and jumped up to greet his customer. Over the checkout counter, Theodard spotted a young woman seemingly in the process of being devoured alive by no-maj winter clothes. A thick woolly hat covered most of her head, and a charcoal scarf obscured most of her face. A few tufts of brown hair poked out from behind her hat, but otherwise Theodard could ascertain neither the accuracy nor the effectiveness of his Customer Charm charm.

The Customer Charm charm always announced the entrance of a new customer with an appropriate complimentary appraisal. Upon installation, he'd chosen the neutral childlike voice model, because he personally found compliments from plain-spoken children to be the most believable. Oh, Theodard loved watching how the quite charming, if sometimes overly dramatic, voice brightened his customers' day!

It is such a pity the young woman's face is hidden, thought Theodard.

"Good afternoon, young lady! Welcome to Flourish & Fontaine! If you require any assistance in satisfying your literary needs, please do not hesitate to ask," he said, with a curt bow.

After the nearly mummified young woman returned a prompt muffled Thank you, sir, Theodard waddled back over to his toadstool couch. He crouched slightly, allowing the toadstools to grow around him until at last they formed a perfectly molded cushion. He then hefted his weight back onto the toadstool couch, which readjusted itself until Theodard was in a comfortable reclined position. Propping The Darkest Wand against his lap once more, he reopened to the polka dot bookmark marking his last-read page. Left hand flying up to twirl his mustache, he eagerly continued his rereading.

On Saturday, October 22nd, at 5:19 PM, Theodard Fontaine was roused once more from his book. A series of muffled expletives ensued from one of the balconies a floor above him.

He wondered in amazement if this was the young "lady" from earlier. Surely this wasn't how the younger generations conversed… He continued pondering over modern social etiquette, while yanking anxiously on his mustache.

Another string of explicit language poured out from above, and Theodard's jaw dropped. His hand slapped to his chest as he gasped in recognition. That particularly crude sentence was lifted straight from his current chapter in The Darkest Wand!

"Oh my word!"

Lex crossed the threshold of Flourish & Fontaine, prepared to be unprepared, expecting the unexpected. However, as she craned her sore neck backwards to peer up at the Flourish & Fontaine sign, she couldn't help but feel her brain's estimation capabilities were horribly miscalibrated.

A second and third story stretched upwards from the ground floor, which only moments ago had been the only floor of this previously squat bookstore. Lex could no longer see the roof of the building, because it disappeared into a fog of grey clouds. Small birds flitted about in the fog, their wings casting odd shadows into the haze. Strange… Lex hadn't seen many pigeons in this part of town.

On the ground floor, the building's painted wood siding appeared to have grown around the glimmering store sign. Amazingly, even while standing almost directly below, the sign was still impossibly readable. Much to Lex's chagrin, no pulleys or metal frameworks were visible, nothing that might shed some light on the incredible mechanics of the bookstore's extravagant sign.

Beneath the secretive sign, current best-sellers were hovering haphazardly in a large display window. The books danced excitedly, and inexplicably, over colorful cauldrons filled-to-the-brim with textbooks, parchment, and other school supplies. Lex didn't recognize any of the creative book titles, but several books had some of the most extraordinary covers she'd ever seen. She could hardly believe a bookstore would go to such lengths, employing special effects worthy of a theme park as a mere advertising technique! E-books must have really been cutting into bookstore profits, more so than even her most cynical estimates…

Shaking her head once in disbelief and then again in an effort to stretch her sore neck muscles, Lex closed the distance between herself and the heavy-looking front door. The golden door bore polished ivory accents, a giant anagram of the letters 'F' and 'F' sculpted into its face, and its handle was merely an ivory-encrusted indentation where a knob would normally be.

Lex yanked open the door, releasing a grunt of displeasure at its startling weight. Goodness! What was this door made of? Solid gold?

Before the ridiculously heavy door had even slammed shut, Lex was once again reminded of how terribly misaligned her predicted reality had become with her actual reality. Doors jingle when they shut. Or sometimes silly sound effects play whenever a special door sensor is triggered. Doors do not judge. Doors do not prompt creepy invisible children to whisper inappropriate commentary into your ears.

"Beautiful Brunette with a Wit to Match" chirped a high-pitched childlike voice, its words originating from over her left shoulder.

The incredible closeness of the voice sent a shiver down Lex's spine, the hairs on her bruised neck standing on end despite the warmth of her thick scarf. She immediately attempted to turn towards the voice, but it simply finished the sentence from its fixed location over her left shoulder.

Eyes wide, Lex spun back towards the right half of the building, where a plump man peered happily over a checkout counter. She wondered whether this man possibly possessed a skill for ventriloquism, as well as a childlike alter-ego, but quickly realized that her attempts to explain the phenomenon were just making it creepier.

"Good afternoon, young lady! Welcome to Flourish & Fontaine! If you require any assistance in satisfying your literary needs, please do not hesitate to ask," said the man with a curt bow that set his belly jiggling.

Lex thought the man looked a bit like a green-haired Colonel Sanders - that is, if Colonel Sanders wore lacy dress shirts and polka dots. The man had an aloof yet kind demeanor. She politely thanked him for the offer, hoping that her tone would signal an end to the conversation.

She was most grateful and relieved when, instead of pestering her with questions, he graciously left her to her own devices.

The interior of Flourish & Fontaine was even more beautiful than the exterior. Along the far wall, spiral staircases climbed upwards towards tiered balcony levels. In keeping with the theme, each staircase was a beautiful mix of gold and ivory. Colorful wallpapers wrapped the high walls and even the ceilings, each level boasting its own unique style, likely pertaining to the genres of books it held. Each level also played host to a portion of the dramatic stained glass windows spanning the entire height of the building. Despite the cloudy day outside, bright rays of sunlight filtered through these large window etchings, which depicted centaurs, mermaids, and other equally fantastic creatures.

At the foot of the grand pane of stained glass, bookshelves covered all but the very center of the ground floor. There, flanked by a semicircle of stuffed bookshelves, a tiered golden fountain rained a potpourri of miscellaneous items and glitter into its deep basin. On the fountain's side, an engraving read "Baubles & Knick-Knacks" in elegant script.

Items of every shape and size were pouring endlessly downward without any of the objects breaking or making so much as a sound. In fact, the only sound emitted from the fountain was that of rushing yet non-existent water. Lex watched as a feathery quill floated swiftly downwards beside a falling rubbery ball, both somehow maintaining the exact same speed and arched trajectory. Natural sound effects she could understand, as she'd listened to plenty of calming audio tracks featuring running water, but how on Earth were they producing this illusion of suspended motion?

Crossing the floor, she swiped a hand beneath one of the fountain "arms" and it returned with a fancy ink pen. The fountain was certainly not a holographic projection, and there were no glass tubes to shape the smooth arches of the fountain "arms." She wasn't quite tall enough to reach the top of the approximately six-foot fountain to confirm, but she suspected an air vacuum… and magnets… yes, magnets. That made perfect sense! And if it didn't… well, then Lex supposed that neither she nor Sir Isaac Newton would be properly "calibrated" to predict this particular reality.

Finally turning her attention away from the fountain, Lex wandered among the bookshelves. She found herself sandwiched between a row dedicated to owls and another dedicated to numerology. After returning a copy of You & Your Owl to its shelf, she glanced around wildly for some signage to make sense of this odd filing system. Who would put books on owls next to books on numerology? Where was the logic in that? Furthermore, who knew there were so many popular books on owls…

Peering about, Lex soon spotted a thin sign hanging from the ceiling overhead. It read "Textbooks: Ilvermorny Curriculum" and appeared to be a miniature version of the larger sign outside. Much like its big brother, this sign gave no indication as to how it was suspended in the air.

Growing exasperated by the recent influx of unanswered questions, Lex threw her hands up in the air, winced at the careless movement, and then proceeded towards the nearest staircase. She had hoped to find a postcard or an equally cheeky souvenir for Will, and a numerology textbook certainly wouldn't do. Lex would have predicted the stationery or school supplies section would be located near the textbooks section, but when someone thinks it logical to place owls next to numerology, all bets are off.

Climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor required much less effort than she'd anticipated. Lex could've sworn that the spiral staircase actually was spiraling as she moved, and perhaps of even greater concern, as Lex stepped onto the stair landing, she could have sworn that one of the stained glass centaurs brandished his bow and winked in her direction.

"Drugs are bad, kids…" Lex muttered mirthlessly under her breath.

The second floor was one part family photo album and one part antique shop. On the left side, medieval crests, framed clippings, and group photos were scattered among mahogany cabinets and shelves. On the right side of the surprisingly large space, an eclectic mix of historical objects hung from red pinstripe walls. Antique telephone booths, beanbags, and Lazy-boys formed a bizarre seating area in the far corner, where a rubber duck was inexplicably displayed on a pedestal below a hanging rubber chicken. Instead of the rich mahogany of the shelves on the left, the shelves on the right were made of various industrial metals and materials. One shelf even looked to be composed entirely of bottle caps.

As she exited the stair landing, another floating sign appeared. It read "Blood Matters" above an arrow pointing left and "No-Maj Relations" above an arrow pointing right.

No-maj…

Lex remembered Wyomi using the word to describe a cellphone, but Lex had assumed "no-maj" was just some bizarre Chinese off-brand. Clearly, she was mistaken. Interest piqued, Lex proceeded towards the shelves on the right, her postcard mission temporarily forgotten.

After perusing a bookshelf made from bent Texas license plates, Lex selected her first book, When Muggles Attack by Barrett Fay. Flipping quickly through the pages, she spotted a technical blueprint of a toaster below the chapter title, "Dangerous Muggle Weaponry," a flying motorcycle below another heading of "Cultural Takeover," and, finally, an incredible image of a farmer with a pitchfork leading a team of hogs into battle.

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, Lex snapped the book shut and returned it to the shelf. She wished there was a sign somewhere to indicate this shelf was for satire. See, despite the outrageous decor, the signs had given her the funny impression that these books were non-fiction…

Moving to another row, Lex discovered a bookshelf made of welded bathroom appliances, with book titles including names she actually recognized. Books such as Abraham Lincoln and 42 Other Famous No-Maj gave every indication of historical non-fiction, yet when she scanned the contents, they documented some of the most ludicrous stories she had ever heard. A book dedicated solely to Abraham Lincoln was well-written in the conversational prose of a third-person narrative, but it soon devolved into mentions of altercations with blood-thirsty vampires - more fiction.

Lex suppressed the urge to pull a pen and paper from her purse and post her own emergency filing system immediately. Instead she smirked and turned one of the knobs on a dangerously protruding sink faucet, before proceeding onward to the last row of shelves.

Excitement fading, Lex began to feel the exhaustion of a day spent almost exclusively on her feet. Fortunately, the last shelf row bordered a cloister of bean bag chairs. After ogling a particularly inviting cowhide beanbag, Lex snatched a red leather-bound hardback from the nearest shelf and lowered herself into a Lazy-boy chair. Her body immediately thanked her, legs going limp against the footrest as she sunk even deeper into the upholstery of the vintage recliner.

Sighing peacefully, Lex eyed the book she held, Guess it's just you and me for a little bit.

Flipping the book over in her hands, she admired the golden trim on the red leather cover. Three simplified human faces were depicted in gold, forming a column down the center. One face covered its eyes, another its ears, and the third its mouth, as if to represent the old adage "See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil." Intrigued, Lex opened to the title page:

The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why the Muggles Prefer Not to Know
by Professor Mordicus Egg

Grinning widely yet not unsympathetically at the man's unfortunate name, she carefully studied the author's foreword, which read more like an author's disclaimer.

The Muggle or Non-Magical (No-Maj), as he is known in the Americas, is a largely misunderstood creature. Herein, this novel aims to clarify some of the common misconceptions and frequently unjust negative stereotypes surrounding the Muggle condition. Throughout this novel, I further aim to be as objective as possible in my discourse, whilst presenting you merely with the facts. This book is neither a statement on my personal views regarding issues of pure-blood supremacy, magical supremacy, nor…

Lex's head snapped up, and for once, she didn't even wince. Muggle. Non-magical. Whilst.

At 5:19 PM on October 22nd, 2016, three things occurred to Alexandra Austin in rapid succession and ascending order of significance. Firstly, the author was clearly foreign and most likely British. This was of little consequence, of course, but Alexandra's mind noted it first nonetheless. Secondly, "muggle" was synonymous with "no-maj," which was synonymous with "non-magical." Thirdly, and of explosive importance, if there were non-magicals… then the people who wrote these books… Wyomi and the Van Helsings… green-haired Colonel Sanders downstairs and his creepy kid voice… they must be magicals. Or, at least they believed they were magicals.

The book dropped from her hands and slid unceremoniously to her feet, but Lex didn't even notice. Her eyes wide and jaw slack, she stared out towards the balcony, which overlooked the impossible fountain just below. As she stared unblinking at one of the stained glass windows, a cheeky merman flexed his tail muscles, pointed his trident in her direction, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

The resulting flash of understanding that crossed Alexandra Austin's highly-analytical mind in that moment encompassed the implementation of more data point comparisons, memory retrievals, heuristic models, and existential angst than should ever be inflicted upon or asked of a human brain. Naturally, the most logical response to her conundrum bubbled to the surface in the form of the expressive language that usually accompanies words similar to a word that sounds similar to, but not quite exactly like, "rubber duck."

"Holy f-"