The Flight Of The Vulture

Chapter 13: Ingrid Berg

Part 2: Belle Greene

July 16th, 1972

Belle soared over the mountains and through the trees. It was invigorating beyond description to smell the air and just inhale her freedom. She was on her way to a small cottage in a very remote valley. This was where McGonagall's contact was.

She found the cottage in the forest's clearing. She transformed into herself before she nervously made her way up the stone pathway to the stone cottage. She had all her money and a few desired belongings in a small brown satchel on her hip. She'd left everything else behind at the school.

There was a sign on the door.

Ingrid Berg's Pawn Shop.

It was stone on the inside, but it looked like little red mushrooms were growing from the moss covered walls. Little wooden bird mobiles lined the ceiling and many fantastical items were in glass cases around her.

"Here to bargain dear?" A low pitched voice sounded, but Belle couldn't see anyone.

"Professor McGonagall sent me." Belle called to the room. "She said you could help me."

A little woman popped up from behind a wooden counter at the end of the room. She had a little red triangle hat and she was wearing a green and white dirndl. She had little brown braids and big green eyes. "You must be Miss Brenna."

"Yes mam." Belle smiled a little.

"Call me Ingrid please." She smiled pleasantly with dimples forming at her cheeks. "I'm sure I can help you disappear if that's what you are after."

"I have money to pay you." Belle insisted reaching into her bag.

"Oh, I'd never accept payment for this kind of service. It would be against the Scandy Gnome code." Ingrid shook her head, "If you wanted to sell or buy something, of course, but helping witches disappear from patriarchal traditions, that's my birthright."

Belle tilted her head, she'd only ever known Garden Gnomes. They were nasty unintelligent creatures. "You are a gnome?"

"Well, I'm not a bloody house elf." Ingrid put her fists on to her hips.

"I'm sorry, I've just never met well, an intelligent gnome?" Belle worried she had offended her.

"I'm a Scandinavian Gnome. I will not be so insulted as to be compared to my lesser version. Garden Gnomes give us all a very bad reputation." Ingrid insisted as she bobbed along to come out from behind the counter top. Her little cap flopped as she walked. "All Garden Gnomes know how to do is eat, sleep and fu-" She stopped abruptly as she stepped out, looking Belle over.

Ingrid asked, "How old are you dear?"

"Seventeen." Belle felt herself laughing a bit.

"Minerva did insinuate you were young." Ingrid giggled, walking up to Belle. She bobbed around her with her hand on her chin. "She also said you wished to go to America, to become an artist or designer."

Belle nodded.

"I have an interested party who works at a clothing store in the hidden Wizard City of Moda, Wisconsin. She is looking to take on an assistant in exchange for room, board. Not a lot of money, but what use is that if you already have a roof over your head." Ingrid smiled, "If you are quite interested?"

Belle nodded that sounded like what she was looking for, "I would be."

"Now, to the Muggles Wisconsin is just cheese, beer and cornfields, but to the Wizard community there, Moda is quite the capitol of fashion." Ingrid took Belle's hand. "Come back with me child, let's get you some paperwork."