B.Q. Book One: Princess of the Blacks

Chapter 2: Grimmauld Place

Everyone who returned for this second chapter, welcome! From here on out, the story will mostly be from Jen's point of view, though I'll be bringing in others for when an outside perspective is best. You'll also find out how Jen gets around without her sight or any assistance (a hint, magic). Enjoy!

I forgot to mention last chapter, but as an American, most of what I know of British-isms come from HP fanfiction. Therefore, feel free to correct me if I use a term incorrectly or use the American word.

Disclaimer: Did Harry rely on the Weasley family to be his sole contact with Wizarding Britain? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
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Yesterday had started off normal enough for the girl affectionately referred to as 'Mama Jen'. She had woken shortly after one as was her habit, a necessity considering she hadn't finished closing up the club until six in the morning. She had fed herself and Loki, and then 'read' one of her books until dusk, when it was time for her to begin preparing Candyland for the night's customers. Once open, she worked at the bar.

All normal, all routine, until a certain Sirius Black came to call.

Jen shook her head as she gathered some of her books from the ground floor room farthest from the club entrance, one she had set up for storage. He was a very odd man, but his thoughts proved his sincerity. She smiled at that thought; 'stay out of other people's heads' was the only ethical rule her tutor, Elsie, had demanded she follow, probably so the old woman could keep her own secrets, but she had never listened. There were just too many useful secrets she could sniff out that way, and no matter what the situation, knowledge was power.

She hefted the books in her arms before walking over to the three piles she had made on the room's table, jerking her head towards it as she moved. Another ten books lifted themselves from their shelves and followed her there. Once they were all settled, she took stock to ensure she had not left anything out.

Her clothing was the first pile. Two shirts, a jacket, her skirt, and a strappy set of heels, along with the third shirt, jeans, and trainers she was currently wearing. I really need more clothes, she thought, not for the first time. The club provided all the kids working there with free room and board, but after paying for utilities and groceries, there wasn't enough profit left for anyone to have a decent wage to purchase personal items. Not even clothes were something they could depend on receiving since the owner took his cut from the gross income. In his mind, why should they have new clothing when they earned money while out of them? Thank goodness for cleaning charms.

The next pile consisted of a bound roll of leather and a pair of books on the rituals of Voodoo, Maji a ak Sprituèl nan Vodou and Kouran Bondye ki gen pouvwa, both of which were nearly impossible to find, especially here in the UK. The only store that would possibly have copies was one Elsie had mentioned resided in Knockturn Alley in London, but she could not recall the name.

She opened the case and felt each item inside: a few vials, some holding magical substances found only in Haiti; nine smooth river stones blessed by a priest of Baron Samedi; her bone ritual dagger; a foot-wide mirror shrunk to the size of a compact; and a currently empty silver flask enchanted to preserve its contents. Now that those everything had been checked, she swiftly tied it closed again. This was all she had to remember Elsie by, and even if she ignored the sentimental value, nothing was replaceable except the mirror and the unused vials.

The last and largest pile was all the books she had obtained locally, if not exactly legally. She had needed the books to study from, but without the money to purchase them, her only recourse was theft. She had considered stealing other things, such as clothes, but taking one book at a time she could hide from prying eyes and law-enforcing hands; new clothes, not so much, and definitely not enough to provide for all the kids.