"This yers, innit?"

Letting it dangle from her fingers, Charley held up the pocketwatch by its chain. Doing her best impression of the used carriage salesman, patches on sleeves and all, she let the man catch its glimmer on the streetlamps before holding it back. "This one keeps perfect time, so far as I've heard. I only jes got it, but as I hear you've recently come into need of one."

The urchin had more than her ear to the ground on this one. Her dainty fingers, now dangling the chain with the most innocent of taunts, were the same ones unclasping that chain from the man's waistcoat a few blocks away. She'd kept her eyes on him from just out of sight. Once the coppers proved as useless as they always were, Charley knew it was time to make her move.

"I saw him who took it, that scrawny little thief. Knocked him down for ya, I did, and rescued this nice piece of yers." Charley lied brazenly, pawning it off as bravery instead. The man seemed to only have eyes for his property, and swiped at it without acknowledging her efforts. How rude. "'Course, I took a bruising for it, an' I en't as tall's or strong's I could be yet. Mebbe with a little coin for some good food, I could.. As a finder's fee..."

Charley tossed the coins in her hand just as brazenly as she strolled into the Three Broomsticks. It wasn't often she could walk in as a customer, a real paying customer. No sipping the dregs tonight, no slipping in before the barmaids cleared off a table's crumbs. No, tonight she could stroll right up to the bar and demand the right to say, "One butterbeer, if ya please!"

Her eyes glanced over the room, looking for assurance that her luck wasn't over for the evening. They grew wide when a copper strolled through the door, just in time for Charley to grab her foaming glass from the counter. She took a winding path through the tables, her feet staying one step ahead of the lawman's nose. If he was looking for trouble, she sure wasn't about to be his.

"Act natural-like," Charley murmured, sitting down across from the woman who was to be her salvation. She was taking a big chance, Viola might have roots in the slums, but her head seemed a bit too high in the clouds for the urchin's tastes. Which made the ministry woman a talented acrobat for having an ear to the ground as well, or a very talented witch anyway.

A bit more casual this time, Charley said, "Right on time, en't I?"

---

---

Viola raised her eyebrow as the urchin slid into the seat across from her, but she didn't do more than take a sip of her own drink. Really, she had a soft spot for children like Charley--her own family was loud and big and sometimes more than she could handle sometimes, but she couldn't imagine being without them.

And anyway, there were practical uses, too. "Right on time," Vi acknowledged, though she didn't look at the time. It was all the same, regardless. "You doing all right?"

---

A street urchin knew the feeling of being watched as well as a dormouse. The first part of that could be questioned, even if the second could not. She hadn't lived on the streets themselves for nearly a year, though she still knew them like the back of her head. Only now, her hair wasn't as matted, and the back of her ears weren't as dirty. It made her look more respectable, upstanding, one fit to return a watch back to its wayward owner, or share the company of a ministry lady.

Charley kept an eye out for the copper, keen to the notion that Viola might give her a few moments of shelter. The copper had to know it to, and defer to the witch for the company she kept. Those were the rules, unwritten but understood, the quiet sort of understanding that passed between them across the space of the tavern.

The quiet sort punctuated by the sound of a burp from her butterbeer.

"Aye, I'ma 'right," the urchin agreed, throwing her attention to Viola in front of her. A pointed stare, fixing her eyes on the woman to make a show of not noticing the predator hovering at the edge of her vision. A grin answered the first remark, with a nod to follow, "You said ya had summat for me."

She had reached the end of her part of the ruse, now it was up to Viola to make good on hers. The urchin knew she was pressing, but the ministry witch was up to it. Viola was made of sterner stuff, like herself. Anyone who came out of the slums with all of her buttons on was someone who could match wits with the best of them. "Issit 'bout a werewolf? Heard the Ministry trackin' 'em, think they're coming here?"

---

On the one hand, Viola felt a bit sorry for werewolves in general because, well, what a terrible thing to happen to someone! Vi couldn't even begin to imagine. And she supposed she felt sorry for Miss Urquart in particular, if only because she couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose one's entire family, or to be all alone in the world.

That said, pity for another person's plight only extended so far. Werewolves, pitiable though they may be, were still dangerous and unpredictable. So, in response to Charley's question, Vi said, "Unfortunately, it seems that the Werewolf Capture Unit has had no success in finding the missing Miss Urquart, and at this point, I think it'd be right to say that she could be anywhere." Viola pursed her lips, her expression clearly unhappy. "If you ask me, the fact that she's been missing for months means she's very cunning." Or, conversely, that unit was completely incompetent in what was apparently its one and only job.

---

"An' when ya find the biter, yer gonna toss her in the clink, eh?" Charley announced with eyes that leapt away for a moment. They fell on the copper, who had to be listening to the whole affair. "There's some right deadly folk who belong in there, not some working gal from the streets jes tryna make a livin'."

It was as much as the urchin might ever say to a copper's face, not that she was exactly conversing. Viola was a far better partner for that, always ready with more than just the word around the Ministry. Charley took a swig of her butterbeer, grinning as the sweet bubbles tickled down her throat. The Ministry witch was a good one to study over a nice bottle of butterbeer, and Charley wasn't usually the studying sort. She was already doing plenty of that with Mrs. Mann, maybe even enough to impress the woman across the table.

Any way she could be useful to Viola could be useful to Charley, too. If anyone could find her parents, it was the Ministry.

"Hogsmeade's ready if she shows up, Miss Sinistra. 'Specially with me 'round." The urchin aimed her wink squarely at the woman, not even glancing to see if the copper was paying attention now. She patted the long vest pocket where she kept her wand, always handy just in case. Taking another swig of her butterbeer here might have been her one slip, it got the better of Charley for a moment and made her burp.

Just a little one.

She grinned through it, ignoring the way it might make her look. The Ministry witch had to be used to plenty of sorts like her, enough to forgive a little burp anyway. Besides, Charley was pretty sure the woman liked her. "Alls ya gotta do is ask, whatever you need I'm yer lass!"

---

"Well, the Capture Unit will, at any rate," Viola confirmed. She didn't envy anyone involved, really. But she could nonetheless sympathize with Charley's sentiment. "There might not be a problem of so many dangerous criminals running around if law enforcement didn't waste so much of their time, that's for certain." Most people, Vi thought, were just trying to get by as best they could. It wasn't their fault it was so hard to do it honestly sometimes. Viola considered herself to be in a better position than most, and that was mostly luck that she had been good enough at doing schoolwork that she had a scholarship to get her OWLs.

Viola smiled. "Appreciate it, Charley," she said, even though she wouldn't send a child to face a potentially dangerous fugitive. Not directly, of course. "I know I can count on you."

---

Viola was one of the good ones, the urchin could feel that in her bones. The one who got out and climbed up enough to look over the gutter, but not just to be some cuff-shooter or flash dona. The ministry witch never forgot what it was like down here, that was why Charley knew she could take the woman's words on the level. Nodding fiercely at the remarks about coppers wouldn't get her in trouble with Viola, the way it might with the wrong sort sniffing about.

"'Course! I know my who's Witches from Were's what." Charley stated proudly, drawing up in her seat to nearly the woman's height. Particularly if she added the top of her cap to it. Being small for her age had its advantages, except when it came to being seen as enough of a grown-up to be taken seriously. It was better not to let Viola think she'd made a poor choice in trusting the urchin.

After taking another gulp of her butterbeer, the urchin leaned forward. She was sure now that she had the woman's attention, and perhaps her favor now as well. "Since we're of the countin' on each other sort, might I get yer assistance with summat?"

Charley made sure the word was clear enough for Viola, just in case there was anything she'd forgotten about the streets. It wouldn't be that much of a big demand, not for a Ministry employee, and Charley was sure she could have asked for more. Little else meant more to her than the yearning desire in her chest, the creeping hole carved out at the end of her first term at Hogwarts.

"Mind lookin' into my family for me? Mum an' Pa were s'posed'ta send word after school, but I've heard nary a peep since." The urchin tried not to look too sour about it, it had only been a couple years now. That little hole had filled itself enough that she didn't stumble into it so often. She was hardly one to cry herself to sleep over it, either. "I en't scared they're dead or nothin', I jes gotta know."

She sat back with a little shrug on her shoulders, picking up the butterbeer to take a last swig of it. The empty bottle rang out with a hollow sound when it landed back on the table, and Charley tried not to wince at hearing it.

---

"I can do that," VIola said, although she was admittedly very concerned about what she might find. She liked Charley--Vi thought she was a good kid, just with truly lousy circumstances. Viola shuddered to think what would have become of her at that age without the support of her own family. But she couldn't imagine any reason for the urchin's family disappearance from her life to be good, even if they weren't dead. "Any ideas where to start looking?"

---

"Really?" The urchin thought she had a chance, but it still took her by surprise to hear the ministry witch agree so quickly. She was well-enough used to grown-ups who would rather play nice than work hard, particularly when it came to helping anyone less fortunate than themselves. And a good one or not, Viola still made it out of the gutter where Charley was still struggling. Sure, she had a job and a place to sleep, but that could just as easily change today or tomorrow.

She leaned forward on the table, with wide eyes and an eager grin. All the mournful woes were forgotten in an instant, and the urchin was sure the spark of butterbeer was hitting her now. Brimming with a confidence she had been looking for since sitting down, Charley let the ideas tumble from her mouth. "See, my Pa leads this acting troupe, an' writes the plays for 'em. So we'd move around a bunch, did our act for towns then move on when folks got bored or quit buyin' tickets."

Charley didn't talk about this part all that often. Her traveling days had taught her well, enough to make her feel at home in any place with more windows than doors in it. The first year at Hogwarts, and the one after it, she had tried her own hand at writing plays to pass the time. Most of those wound up as firestarters to keep the urchin warm on winter nights, and passing dreams of being a playwright amounted to just as many ashes.

The buried wounds of her past weren't enough to keep the urchin from laying out the common cities that her troupe would make rounds to. By the time she was done talking, Viola was going to know more about Charley's early whereabouts than she'd ever wanted to, and Charley would probably need another butterbeer. She wet her dry lips with her tongue, feeling as if she'd just finished the longest exam ever taken at school, and added simply, "See, I en't too sure where they'd be now. Thought they'd be writin' more when I was in Hogwarts, 'cept that part stopped after Christmas."

She had always guessed they had gone out of the country somewhere, maybe even to America to make their fortune. And when they came back, Charley could go back to school without any worry for the money to pay for it. "Gonna use those real big owls to find 'em? The sort that cross oceans or summat?"

---

Viola nodded along with Charley's words. She didn't have a means of taking notes at the moment, so she was trying to listen carefully to commit it to memory so she might write it down later. Thankfully home wasn't too far away from here. "Depends on what I find in Britain," she said. That was kinder than saying what Vi's immediate thought was--that if Charley's family wasn't findable in Britain, it would be very hard for them to be found somewhere else.

---

She was going to do it, Viola was really going to look for her family.

Charley could have jumped through the table to hug the woman. It didn't matter that the copper was still watching her —she was sure of it— from afar, or the other patrons in the tavern. They were all just people, just strangers. Even Missus Crouch, the nicest person in the world, was just a friend, as well as her boss. This was about family, and when the ministry witch found them again, she wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again.

"Much obliged for this, really. An'," she glanced at the drink in front of Viola, plumbing all the depths of her inexperience to figure out what it was. "Next one's on me, all right?"

When she tried to stand up, the urchin just about knocked the table over, and bounced back into her seat rubbing her sore knees. Swinging them to the side reminded her of something more to add for Viola. Charley wasn't thinking of bribes or greasing the wheels, not that she'd be opposed to it, but offered out of genuine gratitude, "An' come to Montague's, get whatever's yer fancy, on me."

The urchin got to her feet, steadily this time, and took a few steps toward the bar counter. Then she paused, looking back. For a moment, Charley wasn't sure about herself, feeling more eyes on her small, out of place form than usual. The indecision was fleeting, and disregarded along with the rest of the crowd. Charley flew forward and wrapped an arm awkwardly around the woman's neck in the best type of hug she could give at the moment.

"Won't be long, Vi!" Charley dashed off toward the bar counter, the coins in her pocket jingling loudly and her cap nearly flying off. None of it mattered, though, not with a real future laying just over the horizon. Not when she had her family back.

Then she wouldn't just be Charley, the street urchin, anymore. Or Charley, the flower girl. Or Charley, the dropout. Or Charley, the many more names she was called, behind her back or even to her face. She could just be Charley again, and know that it was good enough.

---