Wretched little beggar

Asylum Street

August 2nd, 1991, London 

M kept tossing and turning. She couldn't sleep. Anytime she closed her eyes, she would dream of owls. A great big flock of owls that would swoop down and take her away to a magical school. It was the first time in two years and a half that she had a dream, other than nightmares about Jack's death, that is to say. And she couldn't guess it's source. 

She had decided, two days ago, that it had all been a joke. Not a funny one. Not a necessary one. A strange one, maybe. But a prank nevertheless. 

Because, honesty, who would believe it if someone sent a letter talking about your admission into some magical school, for "Witchcraft and Wizardry"? 

The girl decided that she would forget about the event. She'd never talk about it to anyone, ever. She'd never even think about it again. And with that resolution, she turned a last time before falling asleep. 

She still dreamt of owls.

August 31th, 1991, London (four weeks later) 

The street was bustling with activity. As the new school term was starting the very next day, all the late families were rushing to go buy school supplies. 

The crowd was dense, and a too small child could easily get lost and trampled. This was M's case. Even though she was strong, she still had trouble moving amongst all those adults. She looked all around, trying to find him again. 

She was doing what you might call… stalking. Ever since she had, half an hour ago, seen a strange man appear out of nowhere dressed in strange robes, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Curiosity killed the cat! said a little voice at the back of her mind. She ignored it. The man slipped into a dark, scrubby looking pub. If he hadn’t gone in, M doubted she would have noticed it. 

What she did then was, undoubtedly, the most important decision of her life. The one that changed her entire destiny. 

She went in after him. 

She emerged in a dark, shabby looking place. The pub wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty either.  And it's occupants were strange indeed. 

Looking around, M saw a man with a top hat, a group of old women who looked more dead than alive, one of which was smoking a long pipe. The barman, who was completely bald and looked like a decaying and gummy walnut.

M got a few suspicious looks as she walked in, but as she seemed confident, and slumped on one of the tables in the back, they just assumed that she was waiting for someone. 

Jack Roberts had taught her, long ago, that the best you could do in a foreign situation was to stay cool, and listen. Listen to all the conversations about you, to what people say, when they think only friends can hear them. Talking can only get you that far, and raise questions. Until now, this had worked. She slumped back on her chair, and concentrated. 

'- Did you hear about the new price for the nimbus ? The sales are going CRAZY - 

-I got this new robes from Madam Malkin-

-cauldron thickness should be regularized -

-muggle saw some auror trainee do a spell. Had to mind wipe-

-My kid's starting 6th year at Hogwarts. Apparently, the potion master is so mean to her she wants to drop out- '

And so on. M didn't understand. Magic? Brooms? Hogwarts? What the gods were these people talking about? Had she accidentally walked into an asylum? And Hogwarts… Like her letters. Was it possible that this place was linked somehow to the owls that kept bugging her?