The professor was saying all the words that lit up in Charley's head, the sort that might make her raise a fist and pump it in the air. She didn't. Not that anyone in the park would have cared right now. The whole world could have vanished without the urchin noticing, leaving just her and the woman. Professor Lyra, with those deep blue eyes of hers that she could have fallen right into and not cared.

Charley could almost believe this lady meant it when she promised a safe home.

"But why?" Came the question that Charley never seemed to get an answer to. Not from any blind-eyed Ministry foozler, nor any mutton shunters telling her off with one of their prickly rules. Not from Hogsmeade folk nor any rich snob's house elves, neither. Every flower seemed deaf to her questions, and the rats only looked at her long enough to make sure she wasn't food. Hardly anyone bothered to ask an urchin any questions, much less answer hers.

And nobody, nobody, ever did anything nice for her without expecting something back.

"Reckon I work plenty for my bed an' supper, I'd swear to that much. An' all the magic I'm learnin' from Mrs. Mann gets used 'round the shop, en't takin' that for free neither." The urchin kept listing, and probably could have gone on for a while about it with all the things she noticed. It helped her make good enough deals for herself, too, so taking notice didn't go to waste. "An' I en't exactly the pretty sort you'd doll up in a dress for lookin' nice in a parlor or sittin' room when company come a-callin'...'cept I can sing an' dance a bit, so maybe yer wantin' that. 'Cause if it's nothin' nasty or naughty, an' don't think I en't grateful yer promisin' it's not, then I'm plumb vazey why you'd want me 'round yer house at all."

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