6 June, '95 — Hog's Head

"Never?!"

The urchin was aghast with alarm, and part of it was surely genuine. Loping her arm around the younger girl's shoulders, who was tall enough now that this was easier to do by now, she took the lead to steer them toward the nearest pub. It was lucky for both of them that turned out to be the Hog's Head, less of the scrupulous sorts in there on most days. That could also be unlucky, of course, but Charley could handle a mean old drunk better than some do-gooder or copper sniffing upside her cap.

That lodged at the back of her mind, far and away from the most important of the day. Little Maggie's return in the flower shop had been the first Charley saw of her since Christmas, and had wasted all the time until Mrs. Mann's return before sorting the actual delivery. Not that the flowers couldn't wait when her Irvingly friend had reappeared, as if by magic, though the subject seemed enough of a sore one for Maggie herself.

"C'mon, we gotta celebrate yer new freedom." Charley meant every word now. She had actually missed Maggie while Hogwarts had kept the little girl all cooped up, and no one deserved that kind of punishment. The urchin was doing just fine without all the years of schooling, she could work to earn her keep in the meantime. And with a few more lessons from Mrs. Mann, she'd be ready for a license to use her wand anyway. "Nobody needs that stuff ol' castle to learn, anyhow!"

Charley had to let Maggie go to fish out a coin or two, from a little purse that actually jangled now if she walked funny, to plop on the counter of the bar. "Butterbeers for two of Hogwarts' happiest rejects," she ordered, grinning with enough cheek to put a hole through the center of the dartboard from this far away. "In mugs, if ya please!"

Today was a special occasion, after all, it was worth the extra knut.

---

Margaret Wallace

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   Violetta DeCroix

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Maggie was free, she was no longer a Hogwarts students, she was no longer a Hufflepuff and no longer had to pretend to be a witch, she could just be herself and enjoy her life with her friend. The first time she seen her, Maggie had hugged charley with more vigour than anyone had probably ever hugged the older girl in her life before. Charley had waited for her, it hadnt even technically been that long, only a few months since Christmas, but to the now 12 year old girl it might as well have been forever.

"I just cant believe its over. Every night in that place... if I never see that place again it will be too soon." her feeling about the place we're wrapped in sadness and horror but it only served to make her liberation all the better. She had considered writing her thoughts down, people needed to know there was a place like this hidden so close to normal people.

While she waited for the beers to arrive she looked around the Hogs Head, some of the people looked terrifying, but with that sort look that as long as they were allowed tk enjoy their beer, everyone would get to keep their teeth. "And you've been in her before?" she asked, not nervously, but with a tone of mild concern.

She looked at the mug of butterbeer on the counter in front of another nearby patron as it foamed and fizzed like something was under the surface. "I've seen it, but I've never tasted it... is it nice?" she asked with a raised eyebrow that might as well have had "remember the stinksap" tattooed along it.

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Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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"Then ya best be keepin' yer eyes down in Hogsmeade," Charley declared to the littler girl with an effervescent grin, matching the bubbly vigor of her drink. She took another gulp while Maggie finally turned away from the subject of Hogwarts, not that she couldn't have joined in freely with all that grousing. The castle seemed best left to its own devices up on the hill, down here was real and far less drafty.

The company kept it warm and lively, after all. She kept an eye on Maggie's nervous looks, and one on the rest of the crowd as well. That was just expected for this sort of place, watching her own back came as second nature by now. No one else was about to, excepting Maggie perhaps, and the urchin couldn't stomach the thought of getting her hurt. "Been comin' here ages! Hestia usedta practically run it, nicest lady her, she'd give any cheeky sod what-for if they looked at her funny. Won't be findin' funny looks in here, 'cept if yer makin' funny faces."

Charley stuck out her tongue just to prove the point, crossing her eyes as she did so. Butterbeer made life more interesting just by having it, and she'd much rather have the smooth, frothy beverage than any of the harder stuff some others preferred. They served that here, too, and those were the sort the urchin tended to mind the most. "'Is it nice?' she asks, c'mon! I en't tryin' to kill ya or summat, not after gettin' ya loose from one crypt already."

She took a long gulp to prove it, too, fighting the urge to giggle as the bubbles tickled the back of her throat. That wouldn't do, not when she needed Maggie to muster up the courage to try the butterbeer herself. It just wasn't as fun to drink alone, or so Charley had heard, though such a thing was already proving itself true even without her companion matching her progress yet. "See? I en't turnin' into a pumpkin. Butterbeer wouldn't even scare a boggart!"

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   Margaret Wallace

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Margaret laughed. "Well I heard that muggles can't even see the castle and I'm a muggle now... so there!" she stuck her tongue out at her friend and laughed before gingerly sniffing on the butterbeer, shrugging and then taking a big gulp on it, followed by a second, and then a third. She put the mug back on the table and a worried look suddenly appeared on her face.

"Oh my, I think I had too many bubbles, they might come out my nose." she put her fist in front of her mouth and Charley would absolutely recognise she was trying to hide a burp behind it. She removed her hand, tried to look innocent and then burst out in giggles. The pleased look on her face indicated that she quite enjoyed the drink even if she didnt say it aloud. The other patrons were eyeing up the two children as they drank and laughed to each other.

"A good sausage'll go down well wiv that luv, one each?" the barmaid asked them as she wiped down the bench nearby. Maggie looked at her friend almost asking for permission before nodding towards the barmaid to go and get them a snack of roast sausage and some kind of dipping sauce. It would be a few minutes. Maggie's eyes flipped back to Charley and she smiled gratefully. After a few seconds her eyebrows raised in curiosity, then her eyes widened in (fake) alert. "Erm... Charley... are you sure there was nothing in those beers... what's happening to your face... oh no? Am I changing colour too?" there was nothing happening to Charley, but Maggie was hoping she might trick her even for a few moments.

---

Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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Charley had to laugh at how soon Maggie wanted to dispense with magic. Magic had done a good lot to her own life, she could charm folks with her wand as well as her acting talents. Which were, the discarded urchin could admit to herself, a bit more rusty than if she could have stayed with her family. Those she surely would find someday, and better off with the aid of magic than without anyhow.

Her little friend, meanwhile, was having something like a holy experience with butterbeer. Charley did laugh this time, with a quiet snort that snuck into a rash of giggles. She didn't even try to look innocent, wearing the impish smirk that won over Maggie a few times already. "Swear yer lookin' like a busty fountain outta that nose o' yers!" she declared, and nodded voraciously to the new voice. The barmaid must have a charm on the seats to tell her which patrons were hungry, not that the urchin would ever turn down food.

Even if she had to be a bit scarce around the 'Head for a while afterward.

"Two nice plump ones, yeah, jes to start with..." That butterbeer was going to her head now, not that Charley cared much. She took another gulp of hers, looking down now to catch Maggie getting a wild look in her own eyes. The bottle clinked on the table just in time for her ears to catch the little waver in Maggie's voice, the too-high pitch that told the urchin she was watching a farce. And she had watched plenty of those to know which ones were good or not.

As farces went, Maggie might one day bedazzle a crowd, but that day was not today.

Charley tipped down her head a bit as a dark mood came across her face. Her eyes narrowed, nearly touching the bridge of her freckled nose as she leaned over the table, close enough for the little girl to feel the weight of her words. "Think yer a Muggle now, eh Mags?" her eyebrows lifted a bit now, pulling her eyes as wide as the child's. "Well, I en't goin' back. Still a witch, through an' through, an' one who can turn yer tongue blacker than marshwater at a mere whim."

Reaching with pinched fingers, Charley flicked the tip of Maggie's nose. Maybe enough to wiggle a little magic back into the girl, but surely enough to break the spell of her deadly seriousness. She took a satisfied lean back in her seat again, drinking deep of the butterbeer just as the sausages arrived. Making a sound behind the rim of the bottle, it whistled back at the urchin, driving a bigger grin on her delighted face. "Mmm, look at the size of 'em, and both mine! No? Might hafta hex me for yers if ya want it."

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The following 1 user Likes Charley Goode's post:1 user Likes Charley Goode's post
   Margaret Wallace

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

When it became apparent that Charley wasnt buying her ruse, Maggie's lips pursed sideways and then turned into a grin before she took another swig of the butterbeer, there was something in it that was warming, but not in the way that a hot chocolate might, it was something else, and it caused Maggie to make a long involuntary happy sigh noise after taking a few large gulps.

Her eyes widened as Charley made a comment about turning her tongue black, she of course knew all manner of horrible things were possible at the hands of a witch, but she never really saw her like that, she was Charley, just Charley. "You wouldn't though... right?" she made a little nervous giggle. They were friends, but friends not afraid to pull pranks on each other from time to time. Her hand reached across and she pinched the edge of the plate with her sausage on and gently slid it across the bar towards herself trying to be conspicuously sneaky.

She was suddenly very curious "What did you do with it? Your wand I mean, after you left school?" she couldnt remember of she had ever seen Charley with one, so she assumed she no longer had it. "I considered throwing mine in the lake, but it was expensive so I gave it back to my cousin." she shrugged, she had no idea what Yseult had subsequently done with it, and in honesty, she didnt really care. A new butterbeer arrived in front of her and Maggie blushed as she had completely missed the fact that she had emptied it to the bottom.

---

Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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Charley grinned, a gleaming, toothy grin that hid little from her face. Shine a light at her mouth, and she could have lit up a room that way, casting a mischievous glow about the place. Not that the Hogs Head needed help in that area, all sorts came into the 'Head and, at any time, it was a given that more than a few were up to something. Of course, the only thing the urchin was up to at the moment was enjoying a healthy dose of butterbeer, with a meaty gnawing on Maggie's nerves for good measure.

"Oh aye, an' have a right laugh doin' it, too!" Charley reached out to stop the little girl from dragging the sausage plate across the table, holding it down with the wand that had appeared in her hand. She tapped the tip of it on the plate a couple times for good measure, and effect. "I'm a witch, en't I? Didn'tcha learn that's what witches're s'posed ta do?"

She glanced at the maple rod in her hand, as having forgotten it already. It lifted, enough to let the plate go and let the urchin lean back in her chair, fiddling with the wand by turning it over in her hands. "Keep it on me now, ever since Fletcher got me one summer. Ya think witches can be nasty, do ya? Wizards are mean ol' coves. They can curl the littiest hairs on ya jes by lookin', swear it, an' don't ever, never, cross a wizard on a rainy day. 'Specially not on the street."

Charley reached for her butterbeer to drain the last of it, letting loose a long, satisfied sigh at the end of it. Her fist pressed against her mouth just in time to keep the worst of her burp from echoing inside the tiny barroom, but loud enough for her companion to hear it. A little smile poked out from behind her fingers, then a giggle as the urchin let the tickling bubbles of the butterbeer overwhelm her insides. When a new bottle was set down in front of it, she tapped the side of it with her wand. Her voice was loud enough now to be heard halfway across the room, though it only needed to reach the barmaid.

"An' where'd those mugs go off to, anyhow? I wanted mugs, paid 'nuff for 'em, didn' I?"

---

  

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Maggie did not like that she could never quite tell whether Charley was talking in jest or being deadly serious. It wasnt that she was scared of her friend, she had an odd trust for the urchin. It was more he fact that the witching side of her seemed so alien. "Yseult can keep mine, it doesnt work anyway" she laughed, definately the wands fault and not her own.

The girl hadnt noticed it before but while she had been drinking out of a mug, Charley had been presented with bottles of butterbeer, she didnt know why, perhaps its because the older patrons were mostly drinking out of bottles. "Thats right, Miss Goode here did specifically ask for her drink to be served in a mug." she added with a grin, straightening her back to make herself seem confident. Whether the barmaid heard, cared or would respond was anyone's guess. She seemed very busy but Mags felt like she heard them.

"I think she could do with more staff, dare me to apply? she gestured to a help wanted sign. "I should probably get a proper job anyway, how else am I going to afford a little place in Wellingtonshire, i'm descended from the upper classes dont you know..." the mild alcohol was loosening the petite girl's tongue and she simultaneously babbling more quickly and more slowly than she would otherwise be doing. Her second beer seemed to taste even nicer that the first now she had gotten over the fact that she was feeling nervous in a nervous place. The girl jammed her fork into.the sausage amd lifted it to her mouth. Before taking a big, hot, mouthwatering bite of the cheap but wonderfully seasoned mixture of meat.

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Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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"I en't much of a Miss Goode, y'know? Makes me sound like a bit o' crumb or summat." Charley shot a conspiratorial glance over at her little friend, waiting for the barmaid to get distracted by another of the barflies making demands in a deep, booming voice. She could throw her own in that mix and not be heard as loud, slipping in under the throes of be-argered noise like an eddy in a river's current. "I en't some big ol' fussy thing slobberin' all over her pulls, mind. A mug jes seemed the right thing for the moment!"

"The right thing for the moment would be not riling up my customers, Miss Goode, " came the scolding from behind the counter, where Charley hadn't seen the barmaid sneak up on them. Her eyebrows rose at the woman's unraveling gaze, tipping a chin to throw up a stiff defense in kind. That mug was going to be hers, even if she had to stare down the whole of the Hog's Head to get it. "If I had time to fulfill everyone's special requests, I'd never get around to making a living."

The urchin's mouth dropped like she'd only been born the other day, and this was the worst insult in her life. She pushed her bottle across the counter with her fingers, and it might have really been poison for how much her body shrank back from it after that. Throwing an arm around Maggie helped, and because Charley really did like the girl it was easy for her to feel comfort when she was close to her. "Ya really gonna treat me like this on Maggie's best day ever? Payin' ya, en't I?"

"You've got just enough sharp in that tongue to be a nuisance and not enough to back it up proper," the barmaid brought an elbow down hard on the wood near the bottle, leveling a gaze at Charley that she might have given to a particularly tough stain instead. "Ask for a mug like a lady, maybe I fetch it. Demand it like a customer, maybe I bother. But keep on like this..." the overworked woman slapped down a rag and dirty mug she'd been working on, "and you'll be drinkin' yours out of the gutter next time."

As the barmaid stalked off, Charley scooped up the leavings to finish the job. It might've looked low to someone else, but she'd been handed worse to mop up after. Even Mrs. Mann, with her kind heart and nicer words, never let her skip the parts that put dirt under her fingernails. "See Mags? More to magic than jes wavin' a silly wand." The urchin felt the satisfaction in her own grin as she poured the contents of her newest bottle into the mostly-clean mug. "Gotta know how to use yer words, an' when to take yer licks."

With that, the urchin took a deep swig from her mug. The butterbeer didn't actually taste better this way, but it had been worth it all the same.

---

The following 1 user Likes Charley Goode's post:1 user Likes Charley Goode's post
   Margaret Wallace

---

Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

The old woman working the bar was a little scary and she was certain they were going to be turfed out on their ear. It wasnt like they were actually doing anything wrong, but they were children, and Maggie was acutely aware that their presence anywhere was entirely discretionary and might be revoked for the slightest crimes. As the woman slapped down the rag and mug she jumped and awaited their lashing. It came, only for Charley thankfully and then it went again and as the woman walked away Maggie soothed her racing heart by reflexively poking her tongue out at the woman's back and then giggling to her friend.

"You and your magic words are going to get us in so much bother one day.

But I dont care."

She squeezed her friend round the waist with one arm and used the other to pick up her butterbeer for a big slug alongside Miss Goode. The bubbles seemed to go down easier every time she tried them and when they finished it she placed it down and considered that she might be full....

burp

The problem musically rectified itself and Maggie laughed again. It was better out than in. She patted her fist against her chest in the manner the men did when they issued the drinker's song and felt something that made her eyes light up. Layers of folded paper slipped inside her dress she had entirely forgotten about.

She beamed at Charley while reaching inside her top to pull out a small neatly folded piece of paper. "This is for you, its silly and you'll have to excuse me getting the date wrong. But I still want you to have it." the letter was months old and never sent but Maggie had kept it, always hoping it might one day find its way onto Charley's hands.

---

Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

---

Charley let out a laugh, a real belter, and she didn't even care who looked their way neither. It was a laugh that made her belly heave and her sides shake, all in a good sort of way. There wasn't really a bad sort of way with Maggie, truth be told. The urchin flashed a grin at her little friend, who was learning to be so brash so fast after being down all year.

Surely the butterbeer was helping that part out by a lot.

"Carin's how they get ya," she carried on, and took another swig of her own butterbeer. It was, in fact, a lot more satisfying to hear the dull thunk of the mug when she set it down. The drink itself sent bubbles down along her throat, making her giggle again. It didn't quite make her burp, but she wasn't about to drink more just yet. "If ya start carin' 'bout what other folk think, they start makin' ya think like 'em. Wearin' dresses all the time, askin' after Mrs. So-and-So's husband..."

She leaned in close to whisper in Maggie's ear, not having to go far at all for that. "...an' comin' round to likin' magic after all."

It was such a sure thing Charley might have bet on it, that Maggie would hate that idea enough to make her laugh all over again. Just enough of a giggle came out before she covered her lips with the mug again and drank deep. The sweet drink satisfied any urge her belly might have had to upset her any more, she couldn't have it doing somersaults while trying to burp. That would earn her a mop from the barmaid instead of a mug this time.

Instead, Charley earned herself a letter. Her face sure was surprised by that part, because no one wrote her letters. Not the kind she wanted to read, or most days anyway. She took the letter, holding it up to her forehead for a second. With her eyes closed, she waited there just a moment, in case her magic or mind really could read it like that. She couldn't, and that much actually was disappointing.

"Yer sweeter'n butterbeer, Mags!" Charley said after reading the letter, properly this time. She grinned, and it was a good one. The urchin had unsettled her friend enough for the day."En't goin' back to that school, mind, but I'm right happy yer free of it now. Out here, with me, this town don't stand a chance!"

---

The following 1 user Likes Charley Goode's post:1 user Likes Charley Goode's post
   Margaret Wallace

---

Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

She giggled and nodded. "I'm glad to be out too, if I never have to handle a wand again I shall be content." She was glad to have finally given that letter to Charley now, the older girl meant a lot to her and she could see that their lives were likely to become more entwined now she was out of school. She hoped so anyway, or else she might be very upset.

She picked up the last piece of her sausage on her for and looked at it thoughtfully. "I do need to think about a job though. Deliveries are fun, but they aren't very much money." she looked like the answer might be on the sausage. Maybe it was. She had heard the butchers were looking for a cleaner, but that sounded like a throughoughly disgusting job so she might avoid it.

The last piece of meat disappeared into her mouth and she began to chew. "Do you like your job? I mean at the flower shop?" she asked curiously. Things seemed to be getting busier in the pub, the evening trade was picking up and soon they would probably be turfed out to make way for the men who called these stools their own.

---

Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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Charley gave her friend a nod, with big grave eyes that killed the rest of the smile hiding behind them. She clutched the letter in her hand, folding it up nice and small again to tuck into her vest pocket. There she could keep it close, patting it twice with her hand so Maggie knew it too. "Only bit of magic that ever mattered was what got ya here with me. Usin' or tossin' it now won't change that much."

She did think the little girl too magic too seriously sometimes. Taking a big swig from her mug again, the urchin swished the thought around in her head. Maggie might work it out herself someday, when she didn't have bigger things to worry about. "Couldn't blame ya for the second, neither. First thing I did outta Hogwarts was sell what I had for coin, all but the wand, an' weren't for lack of tryin'!"

On the plate in front of her, the sausage was getting cold. Charley looked at it, a bit harshly for having forgotten it. Food liked to call out to her, and she always had an ear out for it, too. There must have been something in the sausages today, or the butterbeer, to make them so quiet. She let a cold eye linger on them and set the mug back down, turning straight toward Maggie.

"Right, now I en't one for complainin', so I'll tell it to ya straight," Charley started, and picked up the sausage after all. It did seem to be calling to her now after all. Of course it would be now, when she was busy giving worldly advice. Didn't sausages know how important that was? "I get 'long dandy with Missus Crouch, she owns the place, see, an' she's the sweet ol' sort. It's Mrs. Mann I en't sure 'bout, one day she'll have all our work shared and equal-like. Next? She's runnin' my head off, yellin' all the while. I can't figure her for long 'nuff to really like her.

"Sure do like workin' with the blooms, mind, an' the dirt gets all sorts of fun. There's special dirts, see? Plus deliveries like ya do, 'cept it's to folk who buy her flowers an' run me all over town to drop 'em off to their lovers or summat." Charley had enough of the waiting, and after all the talking, her mouth was starting to agree. She bit down on the sausage and, even cold, it was still like biting into heaven. Mouth full, the urchin didn't waste much time finishing her thought, quick enough so she could enjoy the rest of this sausage. "Hard to figure much bad 'bout a job that might send ya runnin' out to the sun on a nice day, yeah?"

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The following 1 user Likes Charley Goode's post:1 user Likes Charley Goode's post
   Margaret Wallace

---

Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Maggie blushed as Charley expressed a sweet platitude of her own heart. Or maybe it was the butterbeer making her flush. "Looks like it ent the only one sweet as butterbeer, I must be rubbing off on you." she giggled, Charley was certainly rubbing off on her so it was only fair she returned the favour.

She had always felt Charley's job was a strange fit for her, she had a hardened exterior and was quite the prankster but seemed to take her job seriously and it sounded like she enjoyed it, that was good. Being able to go out in the sun was fun, but she wondered whether it might be quite as fun when the wet Scottish winters came around, winter bouquets delivered under a blanket of snow.

"I'd like something calm, maybe in a cafe or a little shop selling pretty things that noone can't shout at me or try and cast spells on me." she grinned. Her grin was cut short as a large man shoved in behind her to get to the bar and order a drink, she scowled a little but the guy was twice her height and three times her weight so it was likely time the left anyway. "Do you want to finish that and get out of here, its getting a bit crowded." Her nerves were showing and she hoped Charley wasn't one to start a bar fight with all these large and rather smelly older gentlemen.

---

Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

---

Charley might never say it out loud, but there was a lot about herself she saw in Maggie. Hogwarts had both abandoned them at the same age, and from what she could tell, Maggie's family had almost entirely done the same. The little girl had her cousin, anyway, and for that matter she wasn't quite so little anymore. It could be that Maggie stood a better chance of making a life for herself, better than the urchin did anyway.

"You better not be rubbin' off on me," Charley warned, flicking her eyes down at her shirt and trousers for good measure. Her clothes weren't all that nice, but they were as clean as they ought to be. For the urchin, anyway, who wasn't the sort to mind her clothes so neatly as other folk might. "I only jes got the right amount o' dirt on these the other day."

A good coating of dirt and grime was proper for an urchin, anyway. And Charley wasn't ashamed of that fact, it might get her plenty of the wrong looks but plenty of times it got her no looks instead. She didn't think Maggie would do so well at it, the not-so-little-anymore girl could do with more of a stomach, and not just for butterbeer or ice cream either.

"Aye, a quiet place, where ya might only get the sorts in here durin' the daytime," Charley agreed, and drained the rest of her mug. She hopped off her seat, digging her elbow into the side of some patron who was too drunk to notice his belly blocking their way out. When he moved, the urchin ducked under his flailing arms and vision, ready to help Maggie out through the narrow path she'd carved for them. It was only the man's sputtering a curse her way that made the urchin turn.

"When ya get home, best be tellin' yer missus she's a bit o' luck, seein' as ya got no eyes for some fair lass in here," Charley told the man while tipping her head in Maggie's direction, and that seemed to do the trick. Laughter parted the way for them better than a spell would have done, with other patrons happy to stand aside for them until they could rush over to give the rotund patron a jovial earful themselves. The urchin took her chance, making sure Maggie did as well, until they were back out in the fresh air and less-crowded bustle of High Street.

"Plenty of folk need things doin', Mags, I know you'll find yer place." Charley had, or enough of one anyway. She might still be wanting more, but that didn't mean she wasn't happy for what she had. Including a just-liberated friend who was going to help her make life around Hogsmeade much more interesting in the months to come.

---

The following 1 user Likes Charley Goode's post:1 user Likes Charley Goode's post
   Margaret Wallace

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.