It was hot in New York City. A heat unlike the Charleston one that he had grown up in. This heat was thick and stagnant, there was no air movement to look forward to. No reprieve. No breeze swimming through the leaves of the oak trees hanging over water, rustling awake the hot, dry grass. Instead, Atticus Beauregard was met with a very different type of heat. The kind that made even the word water sound agonisingly appetising. As stared up at the mass of concrete surrounding him, the sound of muggle cars, and bustling city life itself, engulfed him. One thing was for certain, he was not in South Carolina anymore.
Atticus found himself, literally, a fish out of water from the moment that he entered the foreign landscape. It was as though he was on another planet, surrounded by structures that made little sense. Although the pit in his stomach grew when he squinted up to the tops of the skyscrapers, trying desperately to count the never-ending stack of floors, there was a strange sense of excitement at his core. Ophelia had, for years, attempted to describe the wordless feeling that came with being in New York but Atticus could never completely understand. Until now. Even in the sun drenched peak of sunset, it was alive.
His sister had pulled all the plays in her book to get Atticus to New York for the week, one of his last weeks of summer break. It had taken some convincing on both of their ends for their parents to agree to the trip, but ultimately they agreed that he deserved it after the countless hours he had put into the family business over the summer.
“I’m sorry!” Atticus called after the scruffy looking older man who had, as it was, actually bumped into him. No response. Not even the sign of recognition as the stranger was sucked into the sea of faceless people, all apparently wearing dark and heavy clothing. The wizard stumbled into another person. And then another, pin-balling throughout the mass of crowds who clearly all had somewhere very important to be. Finally, the teenager dipped into an alleyway, momentarily safe from the stampede and just in time to check his location.
He took a deep breath and glanced at the enchanted map that had been clutched in his tightly closed grasp. Ophelia had made it a point that muggings were much more common here than in South Carolina. Back home, they didn’t even lock their doors. To a muggle, the trifold piece of paper would appear to be a standard city map, detailing all of the tourist locations, but for Atticus it showed the illuminated path to Opie’s apartment and where he was set to meet Veronica Forde.
The Museum of Natural History. Frankly, he never knew that his housemate was such a culture buff, but he agreed to go along for the ride. If anything, it meant he could impress his family when he went home. As he entered through the threshold of the museum, Atticus’ fell upon the very person he was looking for. The witch had a box of candy in her hand and was furiously waving him over, as if there were some sort of rush.
“Why is everyone in this city in such a hurry?!” Atticus pretended to roll his eyes as he approached his considerably shorter classmate. Little did he know, they were almost late for their ‘scheduled tour’ with the rest of their group. Just as the wizard pulled his friend into an tight embrace, he felt her hand him what looked like a makeshift name badge, matching the group of people to their right, who had congregated at the entrance. “What’s this?” He took the sticked, completely unaware that she was going to sneak them in.
