2nd July, 1894 — The Iron Fang Inn, Knockturn Alley

It was late. So late even Knockturn Alley was worryingly quiet, and if it had been an ordinary night and he had had the room for it, Jimmy probably would have felt the creeping unease about being here. He’d gone soft, all these years in Hogwarts. Fear ate at him more easily, maybe.

But he didn’t know if he did feel fear, or anything else tonight – just an odd kind of numb. He battered on the inn’s back door again, and – not much wanting to be accosted by anyone if he was too loud, Jimmy eventually gave up on waiting for an invitation and jimmied a kitchen window open, clambering through. (He’d grown another inch or two, he realised in this: his arms and legs were getting more in his way.) He barrelled down the narrow hall and hammered on Hestia’s door instead. “Hestia, are you in there?” he said, in his usual bold tone, “it’s Jimmy” – but once the door moved and he caught sight of her, all his bravado faded. Instead, his face crumpled.

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Hestia/Philomena Sprout

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   Charley Goode

Her arms were sore, her legs hurt, her feet were killing her and she was just about ready to collapse. Thankfully, she’d already flopped onto her bed and prayed that Beck didn’t intrude tonight, otherwise she’d have to muster up the energy to kick his ass once more (and endure his endless showmanship). She was just about to drift off into a blissful sleep when the knock sounded. That bastard.

“For the love of god, Beck!” She yelled, face down into her pillow.

Clambering up, she brushed her hair out of her face and opened the door. “I swear to go - oh! Jimmy, what -” She stopped mid-sentence at the look on his face. “What’s wrong?” She demanded, looking around before ushering him in. “What happened?”

  

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