Charley gave her head a little shake, enough to rustle the braid from its resting place. A new bed and hearth wasn't the thing she was wanting, not when the flower shop treated her alright. There was no sleeping with one eye open there, nor fretting if her meager things would be stolen the next time she came back to them. The urchin had, in fact, acquired a few more items of her own in the meantime, given partly so she might stop squirreling keepsakes into the bottom of any given stack of pots in the shop as well.

"Heard of Montague's? I got me a deal with her owner, I help mind the place, run a few blooms in the day, an' it gets me a roof come night." Charley looked straight at the woman, not needing to glance about for any minder or guardian like others. "S'pose it don't sound much by yer reckonin', maybe, but I got half the slums wishin' they were me. I keep sharp 'cause some'd jump at the chance for themselves, might jump if I weren't half as clever, see?"

She kept an eye on the professor's face, watching it for the twitch or wrinkle to tell all. Those well-to-doer sorts around Hogsmeade shrunk fast when they heard the hard knock life of anyone living to the south. Most hardly ventured in as deep as the park by their lonesome, though, which already set the woman up and apart. Might be she wouldn't turn out to be the sort who thought their galleons could fix the world, one sob story at a time.

---