{Nov MP}When Reindeers Collide (OPEN)

Her boss, Ms. Morel tried to warn her.  She had missed the October fest completely, the Quidditch Cup and several nights out with friends, all because of deadlines. Well that and last-minute ideas and late running photo shoots, which kept her working into the night and more often than not on weekends. As part of the creative department, she often was part of the beginning ideas of projects and worked on it until last shots were sent to the layout and editors. After that deadline they had to show up Monday with new ideas and directions. All this resulted in a practically killed social life.  ‘It was the price one plays for your dream job.’ At least that was what she said to herself at the beginning, but now it seemed to be just the price everyone pays to work at Label. YET today all negative thoughts went out the window.

She helped spear the ‘reindeers and winter coats’ idea. Okay, the title needed work, but the shots they got were fantastic. Since all their models had to leave early for a fashion show in France, they had to finish early and the photographer took a port key back with the photos well before the deadline. The fact she was not it the office, meant she was not being roped into any new last-minute ideas. This gave Lesleigh not just a complete weekend off, but she was finally on vacation (well until Monday.)

Sighing with relief, Lesleigh picked up her Swedish coffee and something that they called ‘Kärleksmums’ or which she assumed was a type coffee cake and looked around the dining room of the inn for a chair. The only problem was that all the chairs were wood and hard looking. Lesleigh wanted something she could really sink into relax and figure out just how she was going to spend the rest of today and all of tomorrow and Sunday morning. It was then she spotted an old slightly dusty chair in the corner near the fireplace.

Setting her coffee and cake down Lesleigh dragged out the armchair in front of the fire and flopped down with coffee and cake in hand. She had to balance her coffee on her café plate, because there was not a small table handy ,but she managed it. Between the fire warming her toes and the taste of the moist, sweet cake and the strong aroma coffee, which she had laden with a ton of sugar, Lesleigh felt like she was in heaven. She was in the middle of her second bite and formulating a plan for an evening of reindeer riding, good food and a possible  visit to a bar or two when the fireplace gave a precursor pop.

Suddenly the flames jumped, and a figure strolled through it. Although the figure attempted to turn sharply, they still tripped on Lesleigh's outstretched feet. Cake and coffee and the traveler took flight. This left Lesleigh, the chair and the travel who was now on the ground adorned in coffee, cake and ash. Lesleigh let out a curse word, but was delayed in saying anything else for she was distracted when the Inn’s owner yelled something in Swedish. Although Lesleigh had no idea just what they said, she had a notion that the angry words were directed at her.   

“What? I don’t understand…I was just enjoying my coffee and cake and this one practically ran me over.  I mean,  How was I to know this was connected to a floo network and now look at me!“ Yelling back at the Innkeeper relieved her frustrations for a second and she was able to turn to the floo traveler with a little bit of compassion. “Sorry, you ok?”

It had been a busy few months for Hunter. He was regularly selling stories now, almost exclusively Quidditch-related, and mostly to smaller regional newspapers, but combined with his part-time work at the second-hand shop and those occasions when the rats performed on the streets for whatever coins could be thrown, he was doing okay. That was a relief, because there had been several weeks when he'd had another mouth to feed. Imagine Moxie turning up like that out of nowhere, tracking him down after she'd seen his name in a discarded newspaper. Poor little kid, he hoped she was doing okay with her Dad now. It had been over a week now and he'd snuck back to walk past the shop a couple of times, disguised so the guy wouldn't think he was stalking. Last time she'd been curled up in a chair reading a book, and her clothes had looked new. Despite how much easier his life was now he didn't have a kid to watch out for, he missed her.

Maybe that was why he was doing something completely different, taking advantage of free Ministry-organised portkeys to go out to Sweden for the reindeer festival. Hunter liked animals, but he wasn't that keen on the cold. People who said they enjoyed the winter were invariably rich, the kind who went on skiing holidays and owned cabins in the mountains. None of them had ever experienced a winter when they were sleeping in an abandoned warehouse, burning old pallets to keep warm and thanking their lucky stars that they were wizards who could charm a can of soup to heat itself up without needing a stove. But it seemed like a fun event, so Hunter had put a pair of longjohns under his jeans, donned an extra sweater and turned up in London to take the portkey to Sweden.

Except the portkey was malfunctioning. Several people had simply apparated to Manchester and taken another one, but Hunter was in luck. The shop where it was going from were connected to the Floo network, and the Minsitry had given permission for free travel for today only. Great! No sick, dizzy feeling as you hurtled through space, just a warm tickling and you stepped out of another fireplace. Thanking the witch who offered him the powder, he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and stepped into the fire... stepping out again and immediately stumbling into something on the floor. He tried to turn and avoid the collision but it was too late; Hunter sprawled full-length onto the floor, swearing in Icelandic as he did.

Right as someone else wore in English, and then there was more yelling and swearing in what he presumed to be Swedish, because some of the words were familiar. As he started to pick himself up he saw it was a man, presumably the owner of this pub or whatever it was. yelling at a young woman whose feet he must have tripped over. "Hey, hey...it's not her fault" he said, because the man was yelling something about the floo network and not getting in the way. Hunter spoke no Swedish, had just picked up on a few words. He held out a galleon to the man and said "beer?" which was clearly understood as the man, still grumbling, turned and moved away.

"Yeah, I'm okay...are you okay?" he asked, realising that the girl's coffee had spilt in the confusion. Pulling out his wand, he siphoned off the mess, drying his sweater and cleaning off most of the ash and cake crumbs as he did so. "Did you want me to..?" he repeated the action for the strange woman, so now they just resembled toddlers who had been having a food fight rather than people who were completely covered in coffee and cake.

[OOC: Let's go for them meeting for the first time and see what happens!]

Although a normal looking wizard lay at her feet, he seemed to be possessed by an ancient Viking spirit. Almost every single word spewed out of the wizard’s mouth started with the heavy letters of  F, G, or H. Quite a few words sounded similar to ‘hell,’ so that Les could guess their meaning. Worried she pissed off a true nuttery, Les step back, but then the wizard surprised her. For after he picked himself up, he did not turn to her, instead he turned to the Inn Owner, defended her in perfect english, and then simply quiet the him by ordering a beer.
 
“Thanks.” Lesleigh said a tad guilt fully. Figuring she should have at least gotten the wizards drink and clean the mess she caused. Plus, it was a good idea to keep her own Innkeeper happy, since her room was under Label's tab. “Make it two beers and I got it.” She yelled at the Keeper waving the proper count of fingers, before adding a little jokingly to her co-conspirator, “It was my long legs that tripped you.”

She waited a second before she gestured to her legs which helped her reach an amazing height of just under 4'-11".

“Yeah, I’m fine thank you.” she answered, then “Thanks” after he cleaned her. Somewhat. It was then the Ollivander got out her wand and used one of her mother’s famous clean-all spells. She aimed it to the floor and then his shirt. Lesleigh was halfway amazed it worked.  There was a bit of cake in his hair… but she will tell him later. The barman yelled out something and slapped two pints on the counter.

“Beers up.” Lesleigh said.  As she walked across the room, she dug in her pocket to put two Gallons on the table. The still angry man took it and failed to give her any change back. When the man’s back was turned Lesleigh stuck out her tongue at him, before she made her way back to her Viking possessed friend. She handed him one and took a seat at the closest a narrow wooden table.

"Thank you for helping me back there." She said slightly leaning and if it was a secret, while forgetting that most here could not understand her anyways. She picked up her pint and sipped the top tentatively before taking a bigger gulp and saying "Oh wow, this is good.”

“So, what was that language that you were cursing in earlier?” Lesleigh asked addressing the young wizard noting just how cute he was, even with cake in his hair.

It was actually pretty nice in here, Hunter thought now he'd got his bearings and glanced around. Sure, the innkeeper was in one hell of a temper, but he'd probably had to deal with customers who didn't speak his language for the entire duration of the reindeer festival. Hunter had done the odd bit of bar work, and more than the odd bit of bar cleaning work, and he knew how hard it was to keep up a cheerful front for customers all day. Still, it was early, and this guy looked like he was just a miserable git. Under other circumstances Hunter would have downed his beer in one and made his way out of the place, self-inking quill and notepad in hand, but having tripped over this girl's legs, it felt a bit rude just to skip straight out. Probably what professional reporters would do, but the young man didn't really feel that way. Not even now he was starting to make a name for himself and a couple of people had recognised him when he'd been at Quidditch matches.

Besides, it was nice to have someone to chat to. He grinned when she made the comment about long legs, not quite seeing the relevance just then, but it wasn't until she performed her own cleaning charm, far more effective than the half-baked attempt he'd just tried, that he spoke again. "Whoa! That's pretty impressive..." he began, but at that moment the barkeep announced their beers - didn't do anything so helpful as to actually bring them over, of course - and she stood up to walk over to the bar. Now he got the joke. At 5 feet five, Hunter was used to being on a level or looking up to the majority of women, but this girl would only just come past his shoulder. When she returned with the beers, he was still grinning at her little act of defiance behind the innkeeper's back.

"You're welcome. Reckon the beer makes us even" he said, taking a seat opposite "Yeah, the Swedes really know how to make a decent beer." Well, the magical community did, anyway. Being something of a connoisseur of real ale he knew which countries brewed a decent beer and which were best avoided. Really, he pitied the Swedish muggles who could only buy beer and wine through state-licenced shops or in incredibly expensive bars - expensive by Hunter's standards, at least. He took a long drink, only replacing the glass when it was almost half gone.

"Oh - Icelandic. Kind of a habit - if I want to swear, I automatically switch out of English. Got me into less trouble at school, anyway! Believe it or not I'm actually a full blooded Icelandic wizard. You can tell by the accent, right?" he asked with a wink "So what brings you to...wait- " He held out a hand across the table "Hunter Street, pleased to meet you. And yes, there is a long story behind my name, and yes, I am willing to share it if you're interested..." Sure, he had work to do today. But that didn't mean that he couldn't relax a little before he got busy with his quill to see if there might be an angle on this event he could sell to one of the papers. 

Oh, yes! He is cute and he can drink! the witch thought when his half full glass hit the table. She hated when wizards could not handle beer. She had ran into a few that just pretended to like the beverage because she did. Others that sip it like fleas. Then there were others that had no tolerance at all and they would get so sloppy on just two pints. Annoying. Yet not only can this guy could drink, bit his pale grey eyes reminded her of her father's and the short spicky mess of pale hair was just yummy with or without the cake crumbs.

Being so cute she could not help but adding some of her natural teasing flirtation into the conversation by  leaning back and saying,  “Oh, it is a shame you think we are even. You unknowingly cut off yourself, too short. I was going to be willing to buy another round. Although I am not sure if I would want to buy it here.” She turned her head and spied on the owner working the bar over the shoulder, before turning back giving a shrug and taking another few drafts of her beer. 

“Icelandic? Full blood, really?” Her brows  arched, as she her put her now similarly leveled beer down on the table and leaned in, propped up by her elbow. While thinking,  Ha! Viking I was right! Yet instead she said, “No, I can’t tell. You sound like a total Londoner.”


Suddenly wizard formally held out his hand. It almost made Lesleigh laugh. She thought they were way past introductions...he did siphon coffee off her chest. Instead she just grinned and she obliged the wizard by shaking his hand like to blokes meetings at a bar. “Hunter … Street ? It is good to meet you. Yes, that is an interesting name. It doesn’t sound very Icelandic at all. I just might have to take you up on that offer.”  Well, she was not sure if she wanted to hear it now, for it sounded like it could be a long story. Yet it was at least something she could bring up again later, if she wanted to keep him talking. In case he has to leave or something. “Although I should introduce myself,  I am Lesleigh Ollivander. It is nice to meet you.”

Her name usually needs no explanation, especially for wizards from London and according to his accent he was one. Yet with wizards what did not know her father personally... there has sometimes been a slight confusion of age. It leads her to usually say, No, Garrick Ollivander was not my grandfather, he is my father. Was her typical answer for the few willing to ask the next question in their head.

She picked up her beer again as asked before she brought the glass to her lips. “So. Mr. Street, you certainly know where to find good beer. Other than drinking, do you have any other plans today?" With any luck she could join him on his plans maybe get to know him better. Why not she had the day free. Beats hanging out with the an angry inn owner breathing down your neck.

Hunter grinned. He liked this girl's style. Friendly and chatty without trying too hard. It was the ones who tried too hard - too much makeup, too high-pitched laugh - that never even caught his eye. Though that was overstating the case; girls (or boys) didn't really catch this young man's eye in the conventional sense. It was more that sometimes he accidentally found himself in an unexpected situation which he happily went along with. It wasn't that he disliked people, far from it, he just didn't really seem to be geared up for dating and relationships, preferring to have lots of friends he could have a good time with. Maybe one day he would fall in love or have a serious relationship it just hadn't happened yet, and that fact didn't worry him at all.

So he wasn't thinking of flirting, or worrying about what she thought of him, or trying to think of a clever answer when he replied "Missed a trick there, didn't I? Though you're right - decent beer doesn't make a decent pub, and I think I read there's a couple of other bars we could try later on, If your offer still stands, that is..?" He lifted his glass again, this time taking a more measured drink, not wanting to finish the pint too quickly. Another few minutes to chat, then he might have a new friend to spend a few hours with, pass the time and have another perspective on the reindeer festival or whatever it was called. Still, he was about to say something cheerful and lighthearted about his origins when it suddenly came to light that his new companion had an even more interesting family history than his own.

"You're...whoa!" Contrary to Lesleigh's expectations, Hunter didn't immediately jump to the conclusion she was expecting. Instead his mind flitted back to his first year at Hogwarts, when the boys in his dormitory had been showing off their wands to each other and telling the sort of embroidered tales about what magic they had already managed to perform. Every single wand had come from Ollivanders', of course, but one of his dormmates had an older brother who had just graduated, and had been in the same year as Mr Ollivander's son. It was this little snippet of information that Hunter recalled now, and so he didn't ask the inevitable question, though his was perhaps even more personal. "Was it...I mean, did you get your wand from... sorry, I'm being nosey" he said, taking a quick sip of beer again. Hunter realised he had been about to ask if her father had made her a specific wand, having imagined what it must be like to have such a famous father. Rarely did he feel uncomfortable, but for this moment he hoped that he hadn't said the wrong thing.

"Call me Hunter. Everyone does." Literally everyone. Even little Moxie hadn't ever called him anything else; no "Uncle Hunter" or anything like that. More than one name felt weird, somehow. "Drinking sounds like a pretty good plan...but yeah, I sort of came here on the offchance of finding an interesting story. I'm a freelance reporter, see...mostly sports, but sometimes I can sell something else if its interesting enough. How about you? Did you visit the reindeer herd yet?" Hunter was on the verge of asking if she fancied taking a walk with him once they'd finished their beers, but he figured that could wait a few minutes until he was sure he hadn't offended her with the wand question.

Hunter made a smile spread wide on Lesleigh’s face. He was just so easy to talk to. Not all too into himself. Not at all weirdo like ... Tick-Tock. At the moment she wouldn't mind having a few beers with him if the conversation goes so well.  "Oh, NOW you want more beers." she said teasingly before adding. "If you promise me that the beer will be this good, then I will order us a pitcher!" She gave a laugh, yet she was only halfway joking. If his company turned out to this great, she had no problem with getting the next round or two. After that... it would be his turn.

She broke outing yet another laugh with his reaction of her name. "It has been a while, since I got a whoa. Nope both my father and my brother made my wand." She gave a shrug. She knew everyone new her father because most got their wand at one of his stores. Some did not realize that once her mother, and now her brother Grover Ollivander and even her father's apprentice Izotz Gredel makes the new wands there now too. Lesleigh always prided herself that she could nearly always tell who made the wands by looking at them. A few times she told a classmate who she believed made their wand and they refused to believe her. They thought that because her father sold them the wand, it had to be her father that made them. Little do they know there were even a few dusty old ancient unsold wands that were in made by her grandfather and by the generation before still buried on the shelves. They would be some of the rarest ones to get. She leaned forward looking for his wand. "Did you get your wand from my father's store too? Oh, excuse me. I'm assuming by your lack of accent you grew up in London."


"Hunter." She said with a nod and ran her hand through her pale hair as he corrected her. Her mother had drilled into her to always formally address so one you just meet. Yet she preferred first names and liked the fact he asked her to use it. Maybe it meant he liked her and wanted to get to know her too.  She tried to listen to him but could not help to exclaim, "YOU are a freelance reporter! Oh wow. That's got to be cool. I mean, if you write about sports, then do you get tickets to all the games? So fun! Do you get to travel to them all or just cover the local ones? I used to go all the time. Love quidditch, but since I got my job at Label I have been working most weekends. It sucks." She took a second before remembering his question. "Oh, I work in the creative department Junior assistant or something... I don't quite know what the title means, I think they are all made up. Pretty much I am high enough that they will listen to my ideas but low enough for them to be able to totally shoot me down and still expect me to work my ass off on the idea they go with."

She gave a shrug and took another sip of her slowly draining beer, before remembering something else, "Oh I'm getting to conduct my first interview and hopefully write my first article!  Kind of talked them into it. Although I think they might be testing me. The interview is with a new upcoming designer..." She leans forward and whispered with a bit of a impressed eyebrow raised. "She is a Meer."

She realized she was chatting way too much. It was just the fact that he was so cute, and the beer was so good. Two of her favorite combinations. Still she had not answered everything yet, so she continued. "Soooo yes. I did visit the reindeer, but it was mostly for work. We did a fashion photoshoot. If you want to visit them, I can go with you. I can show you where they are and it will be more fun for me this time, but I am not sure if there is an interesting story here. Other than reindeer, the tourist and the Swedish Minister making his appearance... oh and this beer I am sure this town would be dead."  She gave a wink and raising her glass before taking another sip.

"I'm going to hold you to that promise later on" he agreed. Hunter was always going to be up for anything that involved a decent beer, but the fact that he'd met someone who was going to be good company had decided things for him. He drained the rest of his glass, now that it seemed they would carry on their conversation elsewhere for a while there was no need to drink more slowly. It was good that his reaction to her name had apparently been the right one. Probably when your family was that famous you got used to getting asked a load of questions. Hunter briefly wondered what his life would have been like if his mother hadn't had the nerve to escape with him when he was only a day old; but after just a couple of seconds he dismissed the thought. It was one he'd had many times in his twenty six years, sometimes as a kid because he was in trouble and imagined a life where he never got told off, sometimes when life was going great and he reminded himself of how different things could have been. But Hunter had never been someone who dealt in 'what ifs'.

"Yeah, got it from your Dad in the Spring before I went to Hogwarts. Mum and I went to get it; we got a few funny looks when she had to ask directions to a wand shop, but...oh" Hunter realised he was going to need to explain a few things now. "Right, I grew up in London. Actually I was born in St Mungos, so technically you could say I'm a fully-fledged Brit, but for the fact that both my parents are from Iceland. I was...that bit's a long story, and I don't like telling it in public. The short version is, I've never met my father, but I met Jimmy - that's my adopted Dad - when I was a day old. He's my best mate, is Jimmy. Great bloke. Muggle, but magic never freaked him out, not for a second. Anyway, Mum had been to Diagon Alley, but we lived mostly in a village up North when I was a little kid, so she had to ask for directions, and her English isn't perfect..."

Hunter was grinning as he told the tale, not in any particular order and still leaving out the most interesting details. Those could come later, when they weren't likely to be overheard, not that anyone was likely to care. But an event like this - it was just possible that the Icelandic Ministry was going to be represented, and he didn't want to mention a name that was so well known there. He was glad when the conversation moved on to his job...and hers. He hadn't expected her to be impressed about what he did - probably because he didn't find his own life particularly impressive. He was just lucky because he was able to get by doing things he enjoyed. "I get free tickets sometimes, but not for the important stuff yet. Not the first-league finals or the World Cup. Right now I mostly do the local British games, though I've interviewed a few big names. Give me a couple of years, though!"

He was surprised when Lesleigh said she did interviews too - or was about to. The name Meer was vaguely familiar, but Hunter didn't really know enough beyond a few rumours of money lending and below-the-table deals. It was enough that his eyes widened slightly at the mention of the name, and he could look suitably impressed. "Sounds cool, I hope it goes well" he said, though he was glad she didn't seem to want to talk about fashion. It really wasn't something he had a clue about, and was even less interested in. It was also a bit disappointing to hear there probably wasn't a story to be had here, though. Still, he was here now.

"I'm up for that if you don't mind playing tour guide" he said "be a shame to come all the way here and not see the reindeer. Did I hear they've got baby ones too?" Maybe he could find someone to ask about how they were raised, what age their magical abilities surfaced...at the worst, maybe he could sell a story about cute baby reindeer to the kiddie page of Witch Weekly. He settled back in his seat, in no particular hurry to leave right away despite his empty glass.

“What do you mean by funny looks?” Lesleigh asked confused which triggered a short  dipped into his past. It seemed her cute icelander-viking was dying to tell her about his history. She had a feeling it a bit more complex than he was letting on, but she did hear was a bit confusing. “So your mum had you at St Mungos and then you were adopted by a muggle, but your mum helped you get your wand. So you were raised by both of them?”   

She had noticed his muggle clothes before. She thought that they were some kind of shabby sheek-muggle look that was popular at the minute and the muggle clothes loving girl thought that they looked super hot on him. Although, now she realized that maybe he had actually dressed muggle his whole life, not because he wanted to but because he was raised by one. This just seemed to make him even more mysterious and attractive. Like he had lived a duel life that some wizards only dreamed of.

How could this Londoner go unnoticed by her for so long? Has he been hiding? Then she realized that he might have had in fact been hiding. A lot of her friends had issues because of muggle or muggle-born relatives. If his adopted father was a  muggle Merlin knows how it affected him and Jimmie during the war. She leaned in and lowered her voice. Her face shown with concerned even though she knew this likely happened over four years ago . “Everything okay still with Jimmy and you? You did not have any issues with him being a muggle during the war?”

The subject of the war was best not dwelled on… so she was only happy to bring up one of the four things about the magical world that made Lesleigh excited; (Men, mugs, muggle-clothes, and matches.)  Then she said something she almost swoon for. “ YOU do get FREE tickets! No, no, I don’t care. I love British games. Do you ever get more than one? Well let me know if you get any extra tickets! I’ll pay you in beers.”

She had said it only half jokingly. Her life had been so busy with work, she knew she needed someone like Hunter. Just a guy who she could go out for drinks with, give her an excuse not to work late, and maybe even skip out for game once in awhile. Just a reason to start doing something else besides work. She finished her beer and noticed his has been sitting on the table for a while. She felt bad that she had not noticed it before and put in the order for the second beer she had promised. It was then she got an idea.

“I would love to be your guide. I know exactly where the herd is, well at least were it was a few hours ago.” she said before adding quite excitedly.  “Oh, I did not have a chance to see the baby’s but I would love to. We only had a chance to photographed a few.”  She was trying to remember if there were called calves or are they fawns, when she stood up. “So you want to walk or apparate there? It is not far and if we walk I will see if I can grab us a few more beers to go.”

She gave a wink and got up, assuming she would know what he would already choose. 

"Mum didn't speak a word of English when I was born. She -" he glanced around the pub and looked back at Lesleigh with a disarming grin, to show that he was perfectly happy for her to know his history, but that he didn't want to risk anyone else overhearing "She learned to speak English when I learned to talk. Jimmy didn't know a word of Icelandic, so she had to figure things out slowly. Just words at first. That's what they told me, anyway. And they're both great, I had a brilliant time growing up."

But then his grin faded somewhat. The war wasn't something he liked to think about for all sorts of reasons, but now he didn't think twice before talking to this virtual stranger. "Yeah...we did. I got pulled up before the muggleborn registration comittee. I mean, I'm pureblood and I could prove it, so I knew I was fine, but they somehow knew about Jimmy being my Dad. So...I lied. Told 'em I hadn't seen his since I was six and that I'd loved him, but that just cos a little kid loves his pet rat doesn't mean he wants to grow up to marry one. Got away with it, they just said 'be careful' but I lost my flat, most of my stuff because my landlord threw me out. It's okay, I've lived on the streets before, there's always empty buildings to sleep in if you know where to look..." Some little voice at the back of Hunter's mind reminded him that his life hadn't exactly been normal, and that most people wouldn't think that living in abandoned buildings was a perfectly acceptable way to live. "I told Jimmy to get out of London after that day, and we didn't have any contact til after the war. He's fine. He knew enough about the magical world that he accepted what I was saying right away." Don't worry, Hunter was saying. My story has a happy ending.

So would today, it seemed. Somehow he'd got himself a new friend without even trying. "Sure, if I say I'm bringing a guest along I can usually get an extra ticket. Especially if that guest happens to have a camera" he added in a conspiratorial tone. He was grinning again now and actually excited to see the reindeer. One of the things Hunter particularly loved was animals, though he didn't spend much time with them unless you counted his own rats. "Shall we walk? Its not snowing right now and I could use a bit of fresh air" he suggested as the innkeeper, now slightly appeased by the fact his newest customers had actually spent money in his establishment, brought two more beers over in flagons that could clearly be taken outside and then returned to the pub once they were empty. Hunter assumed they had anti-theft spells on them - its what he would have done for such an event.

"Don't worry about the extra beers - I think this guy's had enough of your money" he muttered as they stood up. The refilling charm was one thing he had become pretty good at over the years - often by necessity - and was quite happy to perform it on their flagons until they found somewhere to refill them in a more conventional fashion. He followed Lesleigh to the door, rolling the sleeves of his sweater down to cover his hands as they prepared to step outside. Hunter was expecting it to be cold, but it was a different kind of cold to the one in London. There, it was invariably accompanied by dull, overcast skies, wet puddles in the streets, a biting damp wind and the chill that crept inside your clothes and settled there after a couple of hours outside. Here, the cold was somehow dry, the skies brighter, the snow reflecting the weak sun that lay low on the horizon this far north. There was a breeze, but it did little more than whip up the top layer of snow and whirl it across the landscape.

"Okay. Which way, Madam Guide?" he asked cheerfully.