"May I see your passports, young gentlemen?" politely asked the balding man in half-moon spectacles who sat behind the hotel desk we had chosen.
Harry and I exchanged a glance and hesitated.
"I left mine at home," Harry muttered quickly, shooting me a look. "I'm sorry. Is there any way to stay without documents?"
"I'm afraid not."
We moved away from the desk.
"Ask Kreacher to bring your documents," I whispered.
"That would require me to have any. I don't have a Muggle passport. Wizards use their wands and magic as identification."
Right. Shinobi were much the same. Other than chakra and the personnel number engraved on the back of a forehead protector, we didn't have "documents" either.
"Then tell me what these documents look like, and I'll make shadow copies."
"Well..." Harry hesitated. "We should have looked at Emma's or Jess's. I can't explain it on my fingers. Uncle Vernon keeps his in his wallet..."
"Then we'll have to rob someone so I can look at their papers." I grinned. "I've already decided I want to stay here. I'm curious how hotels work. Though we could simply sneak into a room and spend the night."
"No..." Harry drew out the word. "I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'd keep worrying that we... that someone would discover us."
"True," I agreed. "We could forget about resting. Constant vigilance would be required."
For some reason, Harry giggled.
"What?"
"There's a retired Auror in the Order of the Phoenix who always talks about constant vigilance. He'll roar 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' right in your ear and make you jump."
"If he were truly vigilant, you'd fire one of your spells at him so he'd learn not to sneak up on you," I snorted. Harry seemed to consider that seriously.
We left the hotel, and I nearly fell after tripping over something—or rather, someone. So much for our discussion of constant vigilance. I had relaxed completely in this world. By sheer luck I didn't trample a child. Wait. A child?
"Little girl, what are you doing outside so late?" Harry looked around for adults, and I did the same. There were none.
"Hey, I know her." I moved the child closer to the light spilling from the hotel windows. "This girl was in the café where we had dinner with Emma and Jess."
"Jessie," the girl repeated after me, staring at us with huge eyes and pointing to herself.
"Is your name Jessica?" Harry asked.
"Uh-huh. I'm Jessica," the child said, delighted by his understanding.
"How did she get here? The Elephant House is more than a block away..." Harry asked distractedly.
"Are you Hawwy Pottah?" This question was directed at me. Despite the child's lisp, I recognized the name of the wizard who had summoned me. Harry and I looked at one another at the same moment.
"Are you talking about Harry Potter, Jessica?" I asked cautiously.
"Uh-huh. You're Hawwy Pottah. I saw the magic," she declared.
The previous evening, Harry had explained the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. It wasn't as though every dog in our world knew about the Hidden Villages, much less their exact locations. They were called hidden for a reason. But nearly everyone knew shinobi existed. Here, by contrast, only wizards and people directly involved with them knew magic was real—Muggle parents of magical children, for example, or nonmagical brothers and sisters. I couldn't sense any magic in the girl. I hadn't sensed it in anyone else at the café either, so hearing Harry's name from a three-year-old was extremely strange.
"Listen, sweetheart, how do you know about Harry?" I gave her a broad smile. My appearance had always helped when working with a 'client. Strangers and children usually trusted me, which mattered in our profession. No one told them that I was 'a little bit of a demon.'
"My mummy is writing a story about you. About Hawwy Pottah. Where are your round glasses?" She held her hands around her eyes to demonstrate how round Harry Potter's glasses were supposed to be. Harry flinched. Apparently he too was beginning to understand that something was wrong.
"Little girls shouldn't walk alone in the dark. Let us take you back to your mother," I said gently. "You can tell us everything on the way."
"Okay," Jessica agreed with a smile. "But will you show me some magic?"
After a moment's thought, I created a soft green shadow-clone frog. Who would believe a three-year-old if she claimed to have seen 'magic'?
"I'm sorry, but it will disappear when we reach your mother. Is that all right?" I handed her the temporary gift.
"Kermit!" she announced immediately, hugging the toy.
"Jessie, do you know where your home is?" Harry asked while she busied herself squeezing the little frog.
"Yes. Near Aunt Di's house..." was the exhaustive reply.
"I think we should take her back to the café where I saw her. The owner seemed to know her. Come on, Jessica." She took my hand while clutching the toy firmly with the other.
"Listen, how does she know my name?" Harry whispered in my ear.
"Yes, well done, you catch on quickly," I murmured. "Given that the woman in the café was her mother, and she's writing a story about you despite being an ordinary Muggle rather than a witch, this is extremely strange."
"Jessie, would you like to ride on my shoulders?" I asked. We were moving very slowly with her, and she looked tired. She squealed happily and clung to me.
We reached the Elephant House, but the café was already closed.
"It's quarter past ten," Harry said, checking his watch. "They closed fifteen minutes ago."
"Jessica! Jessie!" someone shouted in the street. "Jessica!"
Harry and I hurried toward the voice.
"Mummy!" My passenger apparently recognized it.
The same woman from the café ran toward us. She was slightly disheveled, terrified, and lost.
"Oh God, Jessie! You were found! My girl! My baby!"
I lifted the child from my shoulders, remembering to dispel the toy. She ran to her mother and wrapped her arms around the woman's neck.
"Mummy! Hawwy Pottah found me! He's a real wizard. I saw it!" The girl immediately betrayed us.
"Please excuse her." The woman gave an embarrassed smile. "I've started writing a story, and she's my only audience. Thank you for finding her, boys."
Jessica darted back to us and grabbed hold of me.
"Mummy, they're wizards!"
"I'm sorry," the woman said again, embarrassed. "We live nearby. Would you like some tea?"
"Of course." I smiled broadly. "We'd be delighted, wouldn't we, friend?"
"Please don't think that I... Jessie... I turned away for only a minute, and she vanished."
"I went to find the wizards, Mummy," Jessica protested. She was still trying to explain why she had wandered off. Apparently there had been more than a cat hiding in those bushes.
"I'm Joanna," the girl's mother introduced herself.
"My name is Nart, and this is RJ. We arrived from London today." I smiled broadly, radiating goodwill. The nervous woman relaxed a little.
* * *
"So what sort of story are you writing?" I asked when we reached a small flat in a two-story house with tall, divided windows.
"I'm writing about a boy wizard." Joanna took a sip of tea and smiled shyly again. "The story doesn't interest many people yet. Several publishers have rejected it. They say they don't want to deal with children's literature."
"Perhaps you could tell us what it's about?" I smiled. "After all, Jessica mistook me for your hero, so my friend and I are curious."
"Mummy, I keep telling you and telling you, but you don't listen! It really is Hawwy Potter!" Jessica protested.
"I'll put her to bed. Please excuse me. I'll be back soon." Our hostess tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"This is strange," Harry whispered when the woman left the room.
"Stay calm, RJ. We'll know everything soon."