I sat crosslegged on my bed, stroking my cat Oliver. I rolled my shoulders and fell back on the comforter. I was officially moved in!
"Hey, Hazel," my new roommate Esther said, poking her head into my room. "I'm glad you're all settled- I just wanted to remind you, no boys in the complex."
"Right! Thanks," I said, grinning and sitting up. "I'm just so thrilled to be in London! This has been my dream since, forever!"
Esther gave me a smirk. "You're twenty seven. Deal with your own dreams!"
She ducked out of the room. With a happy sigh, I wrapped my arms around my cat. I snuggled my face into Oliver's tabby back. "I'm so happy," I whispered. I know, Oliver's melodic voice said in my mind. But could you squeeze me less? This hurts!
Oh, sorry, I said, loosening my grip on him. Oliver jumped out of my arms and sauntered to the end of my bed. You should go explore outside. I'll wait here. Don't forget your wand.
How could I? A Thunderbird is never not prepared, I joked. Oliver waved his tail. You're an unorthodox Thunderbird to say the least.
I grinned at Oliver and dressed quickly. I had only a briefcase of clothes: there wasn't more room on the ship over. I'd donated all the rest of my wardrobe. I pulled out my khaki pants, my white blouse, my dark blue and pale blue striped Thunderbird scarf, and my gray trench coat for the cold London weather.
Knotting my scarf around my neck and carefully stowing my wand in my coat: 11 inches, apple wood, and phoenix feather. I pushed open the door of the apartment, called a farewell to Esther, and left the complex.
I gave a happy sigh as I walked onto the street in London. The streets bustled with life, filled with accented chatter. I pulled my gloves out of my pockets and slid my hands into the leather fingers. With another satisfied breath, I joined the flow of the crowd.
I walked along until my nose was red. I needed a drink, I decided, so I looked around me for a bar or pub. There was a quaint little place called The Leaky Cauldron that the crowd seemed to be ignoring, but it looked so charming, I decided to give it a try.
I stepped inside. There was a man at one table reading a newspaper called The Daily Prophet. There was a picture of Grindlewald on the cover- that's right, they'd caught him in New York just a few weeks ago!
I walked up to the bar, where a boy of maybe fifteen stood with a smile. "How can I help you, miss?" He asked.
I smiled. "Hi, um, I'm new to London- what's good here?"
He grinned broadly. "Butterbeer's always great, and firewhisky if you're more adventurous. We make crumpets every day."
"Can I get a few of those, then, and a cup of tea?"
"Coming right up."
I sat at a table, and the boy brought my order over. Peeling off my gloves, I wrapped my hands around the steaming mug. I went to raise it to my lips, but paused. "Um, excuse me?"
"What's wrong?" The bartender asked, instantly at my shoulder.
A blush coming up my face, I said, "I know this sounds awfully uncultured, but do you just drink it with the leaves at the bottom and all?"
The boy stifled a laugh. "Yes, miss."
I gave an embarrassed chuckle. "In America, we put the tea in bags and then it all comes out."
"Interesting," he said politely. "Well, enjoy!"
I drank the strange tea, and was just starting on the buttery crumpets when the door opened. I looked up, eager to see another local. A man with a blue trench coat and a leather briefcase was at the counter.
I looked back at my crumpets, and glanced up in surprise when a chair scooted out from my table. The man in the trench coat was sitting next to me. I noticed at his gray and yellow scarf- he must have been a Pukwudgie.
"I just wanted to say, I appreciate your trench coat," the stranger said in a lovely voice.
I smiled. "You appreciate it?"
He smiled broadly, brushing a copper curl out of blue eyes that wouldn't quite meet mine. "Yes, appreciate. It's not oftentimes you find a fellow trench coat enthusiast."
I smiled, pushing my plate of crumpet towards the stranger. "Want one?"
"I would, as a matter of fact, if you don't mind," he said, selecting one of the two crumpets. "What're you called, then?"
"My name's Hazel Kirton. And you are?"
"Oh, that's not important," he said hastily. "No, I want to know," I insisted. He ducked his head, fiddled with his scarf, and said, "I'm Newt, Scamander, that is. Newt Scamander."
"I know that name!" I exclaimed. He looked astonished. "You do?"
"Yeah," I said, propping one elbow on the table and resting my head on it. Newt looked shocked by the casual display. "I know a girl in New York- Tina Goldstein. We met up for coffee the other day- we both graduated from the same school- and she said... well, something about you."
Newt's eyes darted. "What did she say?"
"She told me..." I began hesitantly. If he wasn't a wizard, this would sound insane. "She said you had a collection of creatures."
Newt looked hurt. "I didn't think she would tell anyone," he said softly. I felt a pang in my heart- this man was such a Pukwudgie. "It's not her fault, I was pestering her to give me details about what had happened. You were part of it, weren't you? With... well, you know."
Newt cocked his head. "What, the obscurial?"
I glared at him. "This is a NoMaj place," I hissed. "Don't say stuff!"
Newt's blue eyes grew huge, and he laughed. "Oh, no, no, Hazel, this is no Muggle establishment! This is The Leaky Cauldron!"
Newt waved at the bartender. "Tommy, come here, I'll cover the tab. I'm taking miss Hazel here on a tour of Diagon Alley."