10 June, '93
Auction House off Cobbler's Corner
Pennyworth, Hogsmeade
Hestia

Skirts swirled around her knees, and it kept making her pause as if she'd fall. The street urchin could scale a rooftop, fearless and grinning. She didn't worry about falling from that then, so she wasn't going to fall from this today. She still could've used a mirror under her feet to see where they were!

The idea almost made her spit. She hardly recognized herself again in the mirror, looking more a young lady in a dress today than she had in almost a year. Gosh ding, she couldn't have been in britches that long already! Charley felt more out of practice in skirts than in a role, barely sidestepping her polished shoes away to avoid someone marching past her like a storm.

It was the perfect excuse to step out of line, just before the searing argument battered her ears from afar. She winced, ducking her head involuntarily in sympathy for the auctioneer. It rustled her hair in a slight, self-made breeze that reminded the dolled-up urchin that her head was bare save for a single ribbon to keep her brushed locks behind her ears. Braids still could have done it better! Charley brushed the earlier argument away, this one not tangling on the knots that had been painfully excised from her head today.

"Excuse me, sir?" She tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat. It was actual tweed, not seersucker or linen. For a moment, Charley lost herself in dreams of a tweed waistcoat to replace her vest. Her eyes blinked open to find the queued-up man, an old book under his arm, peering down at her like a crumb on his nice, tweed waistcoat. She flicked them down, remembering her role today. "Can you help me find my sister?"

Biting the inside of her lip helped draw the tears she needed to sell it. And what man in a tweed waistcoat wouldn't buy the sad tale of the little girl in a tear-sodden dress, looking for her dearest sister?

---

  

---

Hestia had heard that she wasn’t the only one to have her eye on the book, but the sight of the young girl at the front who seemingly didn’t have any sort of chaperone had given her cause for suspicion. There was something about the posture of the child that struck her as familiar; her running countdown prevented her from truly looking too hard.

Keeping her head ducked, the witch hastened through the crowd, dodging and weaving around the bodies being shepherded into the auction house. If her timing was accurate, that would mean she would make it to the auction’s storage room just as the staff were gathering at the front to greet the patrons. Slipping into a storage closet was easy enough; the back door was foolishly unlocked, and Hestia waited to hear some footsteps before she toed the closet door open. Footsteps hesitating and turning back her way told Hestia she’d need to get ready to pounce.

A confundus charm later, Hestia stepped out of the closet in a servants uniform, with the actual servant, knocked out, tied up (unharmed, for now) and gagged. It only took a few minutes of searching amongst the items to find what she was looking for. After a quick inspection, Hestia determined the book to be quite devoid of any telling signs that would suggest someone else had gotten to it and duplicated it first. Muttering the charm under her breath, Hestia replaced it with the defunct copy and hurried back to the closet where she’d dropped her bag.

Except for just as she turned around, she bumped into someone small. The witch shot the person a glare reserved for those who interrupted her during her heists — and immediately blanched: “Charley —?!”

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

"Your sister? "

It was impossible to describe the look on the Man in Tweed's face as she spared him a glance. If pressed, she would have said it looked like a fly had just landed on his nose. The cross-eyed gaze nearly made the perfect image of a distraught, little girl shatter as Charley did her best to keep her expression steady. Cry, she willed herself, blinking back to the ground a few times in earnest.

"Uh-huh," Charley sniffed, drawing out the story as best she could. If pausing on words helped her enunciate them better, it also might convince the man she was truly struggling with them. "She wanted me to hold her place in line, but then she wandered off to look for our grandmama's broach. She looks for it every time we come, and she always comes back. Except..."

If the man understood, he gave no outward sign of sympathy toward the urchin's made-up distress. Charley was sure it wasn't that he didn't believe her. She bit down harder on her lip, and when the sob shuddered up through her chest, it was very real to her as well. The sound was loud to her reddened ears —but then what part of her wasn't red?— and nearly made her miss the soft sigh coming from the Man in Tweed.

"Oh, alright," the words were clipped and short, though Charley wasn't hearing that part. She heard agreement and took refuge in it, turning glistening eyes toward the Man in Tweed. Just because she didn't happen to believe her own story doesn't mean she couldn't feel reassurance from the answer. "What does your sister look like? "

Charley took a moment to wipe her eyes, and it wasn't because she needed to sell her story. "Well, she's about this high..." The well-dressed urchin held a hand several inches above her head, right at the shoulder of the man. "And she's—oh!"

The bump from behind sent the dressed-up girl careening into the Man in Tweed. Her hands flew out to catch herself, and some small, clever part of her thought to spread one wide toward his carried book. Charley let out a grunt as the man caught her, springing back only after a thoughtless, too-long delay for the properness of a girl her age in a dress. She never needed properness like that in britches.

The Man in Tweed, for his part, seemed far too preoccupied by checking his jostled book to notice the break in character. Only when he had been assured of its presence did he check on her, "Are you quite alright, Miss?"

"There she is!" Charley announced, but she was clinging to the man's arm instead of flying into the oddly-timed arms of Hestia. The woman's face was known around town as the Hog's Head barkeeper, and better-known among the street children as a friend when in need. And right now, Charley had quite a need for a friend like Hestia. "Oh thank you, mister, thank you!"

She tugged on his arm, drawing his gaze for a moment before it focused instead on Hestia. "I trust you'll keep a better eye on your sister from now on? "

The Man in Tweed should have kept a better eye on the book Charley's small fingers were slipping gently from his arm.

---

  

---

There she is!

Hestia stared at Charley for a beat before the man before them started to lecture her as if she were some irresponsible caretaker (she arguably was given what she taught some of the kids, and how often she hid some of them after they’d stolen things, but that was besides the point). She bristled, shooting a glare at the man who looked like an overstuffed parakeet with his feathers ruffled. And ugly stuffed parakeet dressed in tweed. “I beg your pardon?” She narrowed her eyes, noting the telltale shift in Charley’s stance at the man’s side.

Hestia stepped further into the man’s space, making sure to keep an eye on his sightline. “What I allow my sister to do is absolutely none of your concern.” She said, her tone frosty. She’d taken the hand with the book in it and used her skirts to hide the gilded edges peeking out from behind her back. “Besides, she’s found me, hasn’t she?” Never mind the fact that Charley looked absolutely nothing like Hestia, but for all the man knew, they weren’t directly related, which wasn’t entirely uncommon.

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

That's right, I do what I want!

Charley felt like saying it, if only it wouldn't ruin her whole act right now. With her hands clinging to the Man in Tweed's arm, she was a familiar weight. Just like his book.

The same book she was slowly easing out from under his arms.

If the street urchin drew attention to herself now, that would give the whole thing away. Charley was sure Hestia didn't know about the thing either, but somehow the barwitch was playing along. For now. Charley sure wasn't going to share her cut or anything, if that's why she was doing it. So long as the dolled-up urchin brought back the right old book, she could get her coin and get out of this silly dress.

Charley had the book almost out from the man's arm when he seemed to stiffen and his arm slammed down on the book. Great, now how was she going to get her book? She rubbed her nose with a free hand, quietly sniffing back the tears that made it threaten to run. Her nose must be Charley's lucky switch, after she twitched it three times it turned right on. The thought came to her like a match in the darkness.

She sneezed.

Oh, it drew attention to the urchin, but the right kind this time. Charley took advantage of the Man in Tweed nearly jumping out of his neatly-hemmed pants, pulling the book quickly to her chest. She leaned over and turned away from the pair, sneezing again. Or at least making a mostly-accurate, "Ahhh-cheww!" sound. It was the high-pitched chew that would sell it best, Charley was sure of that!

"Of which I am most grateful," the Man in Tweed said, shaking his arms loose to be sure he was rid of her. He sounded like he meant nothing of the kind to Hestia. Charley was pretty sure he was being mean, it was hard to tell the way he said it. His next words, however, made her certain of the man's disdain, "Now, would you please take your redheaded sister out of my sight? "

Charley was about to turn back to say something rude, and then she sneezed for real. Her skirts twirled as she spun away, face as red as her hair right now. Of all the times to get the sneezes for real!

---

  

---

She could see the child fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, and kept the man’s gaze as long as she could. She wasn’t sure what Charley was doing, but it seemed quite distracting, she thought. If Hestia herself could see it, undoubtedly the man could detect it seeing as Charley was situated right next to him. However, she didn’t see the sneeze coming, and so jumped along with the man. It took every ounce of control she had to not start laughing at the second sneeze.

But the man was talking once more, and Hestia refocused on him, her eyebrow winged up as high as it would go.

“This is a public space,” She volleyed back cooly. “You may go yourself.”

But then the child sneezed once more - Merlin how much dust was in this place? - and Hestia gave the man a scowl before reaching for Charley. “Come along, we’ll need to get back before we’re missed.” She said, patting her twice on the shoulder.

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

Charley was caught in the cacophony of sneezes and smiles as Hestia whisked her away from the Man in Tweed.

"Thank you, iiiiI—chew!" the dressed-up urchin began, before another sneeze caught her unawares. Curse these silly sneezes! Charley didn't think she was that good at acting, anyhow.

Not hardly like her savior had shown herself to be.

She looked up at Hestia with a renewed sense of discovery at the woman. There was always something new to find in the corners of the Hog's Head, but Charley hadn't imagined that would apply to its barkeep as well. What else was Hestia hiding in those hefty skirts of hers? "Oh, I could kiss you on both cheeks! I thought I was a goner, for sure! "

Charley's darted about and her head swiveled once, checking that they were far enough away from other prying eyes. The rest of the building was too focused on the pretty baubles in the cases or on queuing, for whatever silly reason that people adored queues. From underneath her clasped arms clutched at her chest, still tucked out of sight from even Hestia, the urchin pulled out the dusty, old tome the Man in Tweed had brought in.

It had to be the book Mrs. Meriweather had sent her for, there was nothing else it could be!

"Someone'll pay a pretty price for this'un," she grinned at the woman, showing off her prize. The book said something prestigious on its spine, Charley was sure. It didn't make a lick of sense to her, though, could be Greek for all she knew. Mrs. Meriwether would, no doubt, once the urchin brought the book back to the stern, slender woman who ran Meriwether's Magical Menagerie with an iron whip. "And I won't get shipped off to no circus, neither."

---

  

---

Hestia stared down at Charley with a bemused expression as they walked away. “And here I thought that you’d been faking it.” She mused, fishing into her pockets with a free hand and pulling out a handkerchief. As soon as they were out of line of sight from a crowd with prying eyes, Hestia was about to have them part ways, except then the girl pulled out a book exactly like the one she already had.

Shit.

And then she was talking about how someone would pay a price — she must have gotten there too late, which meant she would have to keep working on her detection skills. She thought the book she’d grabbed hadn’t been tampered with, but apparently she’d been wrong. And then Charley was talking about —  “Circus?” Had the subject been anything else than a circus, perhaps Hestia would have focused on the duplicated book instead. But she narrowed her eyes. “What circus and why would you be sent there?”

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

"Circus? "

Charley's head snapped up quickly at Hestia's remark, too fast. Her hand flew up to the top of her head, only to find it bare of all but her long curls. It searched idly for a moment until the urchin realized what she was missing today. No cap. No braids to dislodge. Whew.

"Haven't you never heard of a circus?" Charley might not be well-to-do like the Man in Tweed, or others like Hestia, but even she had visited a circus. "It's Mrs. Meriwether's, she's got dancing nogtails and graphorn riders and tamed kelpies what'll fetch little treasures underwater for a knut. And I heard tell she got a manticore for the grand finale tomorrow night, and believe you me there was summat rattling and roaring in the cages near the back. You couldn't get me to go back near those, no ma'am, not even if you paid me!"

Not for less than a galleon, anyway.

The urchin's eyes narrowed a little as she studied her lady rescuer. Hestia's alarm sure did seem like something more than just not knowing what a circus was. Could have been something she just didn't like about circuses, not that Charley could imagine anyone not liking a circus. "It's Meriwether's Magical Menagerie, you heard of 'em, right? They travel 'round, see, and they just come in last week. I missed 'em last year, and I just had to go, and there was this corner of a tent flap open so I crawled under and watched the nogtails all the way up 'til the graphorn before someone grabbed my shirt and tossed me out for not having paid for a ticket."

Which Charley thought was rather rude, really. Who would deny someone watching the graphorn riding just for a few knuts?

"I watched through one of the holes in the tent anyway, 'til they found me there, too. And that meant I had to see Mrs. Meriwether somehow." As if nobody had ever found an urchin watching their show for free before. She picked at one of the seams in the dress, tugging on a thread that didn't want to come out, as stubborn as she was at the circus. Anywhere else and Charley would have gotten hauled out beyond the fence and dumped there or hexed not to return. Just maybe not the hexing part in Muggle cities, though, she was almost starting to forget they didn't practice magic there. "She had a couple jobs for me to do, since I was so good at 'being to be where I don't belong,' she said."

Mrs. Meriwether seemed much less scary now than she remembered of the circus owner. It was comical, really, now that Charley was telling it straight to someone else. If it wasn't Hestia, who had ears for hours, she would have just shut up and made up some silly nonsense that wasn't even close to the truth. Grown-ups liked silly nonsense far more than tragic realities for some reason, maybe that was why they didn't like seeing the urchin around them. "And if I didn't do it right, she'd take me with the circus when they moved on elsewhere. I mean, I like 'em and all but...I en't a circus girl."

Charley just wasn't that kind of a performer. Plays were the thing to keep her interest, and play-acting was close enough to that. Against humans, that is, not beasts or circus monsters.

---

  

---

It took all of Hestia’s willpower to not burst out laughing at Charley’s incredulous reaction; it reminded her that not everyone knew about her past, and frankly she liked to keep it that way. Perhaps one day she’d tell Charley, but today was not it. Especially seeing as the girl started to talk about a Mrs. Meriwether and her circus of magical beasts. The more Charley spoke, the less inclined Hestia was to laugh. It brought back memories for her, and not good ones. Her carnival family had been good to her, but that didn’t mean they didn’t all suffer through a good amount of threatening from someone else.

The story of how Charley crawled under the tent flap only served to remind her of the many times she did that with her friends. She was promptly pulled out of the memory at the blatant threat the girl had been handed by the Circus Woman.

“She did what?” It wasn’t a question. Hestia’s expression darkened as she focused in.

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

Charley drew back at the strange look from Hestia. It seemed to her that the woman was upset, or even queasy. This dress wasn't even hers, the urchin did not want gross chunks blown all over the pretty fabric and messing up her deal with Mrs. Meriwether. She was pretty sure the scary lady would ship her off with the circus for that kind of thing, too.

"Didn'tja hear me?" Now she really did take a step back. Hestia looked mean for a second, then more than a second. Charley pulled the book against her chest, holding it tight to shield it from another woman's scorn. Every second she had known of Hestia leading up to this moment had been of a kind woman who protects those more vulnerable than her.

What if it had all been a ruse to get close enough to take her prize?

The urchin was about to turn and head for the door. She could feel her chest pounding against the book, and it thudded against her with every beat. "It wasn't nothing," Charley offered in a placating tone, wondering how many steps it was to get outside. "S-she just wanted a book. This book, no biggie right? Don't tell the Missus how I got it, please?"

If it would have made Hestia calmer and nice again, Charley might have given her the book. She just really, really didn't want to cross Mrs. Meriwether again, and coming back empty-handed would do exactly that. The urchin was really hoping Hestia would understand that much.

"I don't wanna get stuck with no circus. It's not really my sort of life, see?"

---

  

---

Hestia would have scowled at the talk back language had she not been so focused on the threat issued at the girl. The prospect of getting the book had suddenly become quite second priority. She could see that Charley had suddenly become withdrawn, her expression slightly fearful as if Hestia had snapped at her. This was her cue to reign in her emotions and show Charley that she didn’t mean any harm; she was lucky she didn’t have her wand in hand - sparks would have flown from it.

“No it’s not nothing, Charley.” She said, unable to wipe the expression from her features but hopefully her voice had softened enough to show her she didn’t mean any harm. “That’s a threat the Missus was issuing, and it didn’t sound like no idle one either.” She reached out and tweaked the girl’s braids. “You gotta be careful of that woman, okay?”

Her lips pressed together firmly as she sighed. “The circus is a harsh place. Trust me, I know.” She paused for a beat before crossing her arms. “What did she offer you if you got her this book? Did she ask for anything else? Promise you somethin’?”

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

It didn't take the well-dressed urchin long to make sense of the woman's change in demeanor. She blinked back the sudden wave of caution easily, letting it toss off the back of her shoulders like a shrug. Charley had never been one for stage-fright, as if her performance in front of the Man in Tweed wasn't proof enough. There was enough of the theatre troupe still in her blood to keep her light on her feet and tongue while performing, whether that was for a crowd or a poor, unfortunate mark.

A quick recovery was everything for surviving, too.

"I am the very soul of carefulness," Charley said, doing her best to imitate the serious manner of Hestia in kind. Hestia wore worry like a bad hairstyle, and the urchin didn't like seeing the darkness clouding the woman's expression. Charley nearly meant what she said, too, until she felt the pull on her hair and had to fight against the grin threatening to take over her face.

It wouldn't be very convincing to burst into giggles like a little girl right now. Hestia actually looked troubled over the mention of Mrs. Meriwether and the devious schemes to have Charley spirited away to her circus. Until now, the urchin had done her best not to think too much of the whole business, it was easy enough just to go along with the ruse. Fool a grown-up, steal a book, and get away in one piece. It was fun, besides the annoyances of painfully detangling her hair and the uncomfortable confinement of a dress again.

The aftermath would be assuredly less fun if Mrs. Meriwether didn't get her book.

"I en't nobody's fool," the urchin added gravely, . Charley stood up a little straighter, but still loosened her clutch on the book. Now that she had the prize, it made her curious to learn what had actually been worth going through the whole ruse for. Peering down at the cover, Charley must have felt as she looked for a moment, and she wouldn't let herself look foolish.

Her eyes rose up to look at the concern on the woman's face again. Being light on her feet or quick with her tongue wouldn't deceive Hestia's hardened gaze. Undaunted, Charley locked eyes with the barwitch, raising her chin defiantly. With a deliberate gesture, she revealed the book's title and cover, offering curiosity with her display.

"All's I was told was to get it, with that devil's look of hers. I knew enough to shut my gob and get the book." Charley didn't shudder as she had then, withering under the circus matron's penetrating gaze. Now that she was out from under it, the urchin felt more adventurous. "Think it's worth anything?"

---

  

---

She could tell Charley was well rehearsed on how she presented herself; noticed it in the quick change in demeanors. One moment Hestia could see underneath the veneer, all the way down to a vulnerable child who didn’t know where she would get her next meal. The next, Charley’s arrogance cloaked everything in a perfect shroud. Hestia knew the act well, and it at least assured her that Charley knew how to look after herself…to an extent.

She still didn’t like this Meriwether woman; made a mental note to look further into her and see what she could find. Charley seemed beholden to her enough, but Hestia was more interested in the matter of loyalty. Frowning even more, Hestia crossed her arms, eyes looking over the book. It was the one she had come to get, that was for sure, but she wasn’t about to mention that to Charley. Not yet, at least. “And what were you to do with the book once you had it in your possession?” She prodded further.

---

  

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

"I was s'posed ta," Charley's admission came easily at first, filling in the blanks for the curious barwitch. A curiosity that bordered on nosey, maybe a little intrusive. Once she figured out Charley wasn't being taken for a fool, Hestia would calm down. It was one of those vexing traits of grown-ups, they might seize upon a particular notion and then wouldn't be moved without far too much convincing.

Sparing a glance down at the barwitch's shoes, the urchin couldn't help but think that perhaps it was Hestia was the one who ought to be lighter on her feet.

"Hand it off to—" she carried on for just a moment. Then the urchin pivoted. Her hands pulled back, cradling the book securely in the crook of her arms. Charley held it tightly, turning her chin up to stare squarely into the woman's gaze. "—somebody."

The urchin left the word hanging deliberately between them, an amorphous thing to leave the woman wanting. This time it wasn't for effect, Charley wasn't interested in performance now. Her eyes lowered as the grave tone returned to her, leveling the charge at Hestia with less malice than she might have otherwise. With all her heart, the urchin wished she was wrong, but that heart was busy pounding a beat of suspicion and fear into her veins.

"You won't nab this book from me, nor the glory neither. I en't falling for those tricks, not even if you hex me." Charley's declaration resonated in her throat, carving over the lump forming there. Hestia was starting to sound just as conniving as that circus witch, there had to be a reason everyone wanted the urchin to do their bidding for a stupid book all of the sudden. "And if you do, it just means I was right and it's worth a boatload of money!"

Or a train-load. The urchin didn't even care about the book by now, her only care was looking out for herself. And if the book was valuable, she was going to be the one to sell it. With that much gold, Charley could hire a legion of people to help find her parents.

---

  

---

Hand it off to someone; which meant she was purposefully keeping it a secret and not interested in sharing who had tasked her with this theft. Hestia frowned before rolling her eyes and peering down at the street urchin. “Calm down, I’m not gonna take the book from you, I’m not playing tricks, nor will I hex you,” She promised, before raising a hand and crossing her heart with her other hand. “Cross my heart, hope to die if that helps.”

She sighed, hands on hips as she shifted her weight. “Did it ever occur to you that the person who wanted it from you was going to lie to you in order to convince you to get it, then throw you to the dogs?” The dogs being the police.

---

The following 1 user Likes Hestia's post:1 user Likes Hestia's post
   Charley Goode

---

Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.