I left Magnolia examining her newly repaired automobile and quickly found an out-of-the-way alley in which to recast my muggle-repelling charms. Then I focused on a street corner near the theater where I’d spent several minutes memorizing the area and apparated.

I was thankful that I’d taken the time to cast the charms because I appeared directly in front of a pair of muggles, a man and a woman, patiently waiting to cross the moderately busy road. Keeping the charm stable on a moving object like my robe was challenging, but I’d practiced the spell enough times that I could keep it going for a few hours at a time. It could last considerably longer on a static target like a quidditch pitch or my hotel room, but as long as I remembered to recast it again before it expired, I was hidden from all but the most keen-eyes of muggles.

It had taken me some time on Monday to figure out how to navigate through this bustling city and particularly across the automobile-filled roads, but eventually I realized that the muggle machines were controlled by the colored lights. As long as I waited until the light in my direction turned green and the automobile’s light turned red, I was free to cross without obstruction.

The theater was right across the street, but there was still roughly two hours before the performance began and I was starting to feel rather hungry and thirsty. It had been many hours since breakfast and while I could go without, I wanted to be at my best before meeting a fellow wizard.

I frowned down at my green-trimmed black robes. I was still wearing most of my Hogwarts uniform like I had been when I’d been captured by the Aurors, though without my green Slytherin tie it looked almost like any other every-day robe. It, along with my white-collared shirt, long black pants, and leather shoes, were all in pristine condition, the charms woven into the fabric having long since repaired any minor scuffs and tears and cleaned off the swamp grime.

It wasn’t exactly my preferred look. I had worn some of my least-favorite clothing when I’d left Hogwarts, worried that the far more powerful enchantments on my favorite Acromantula silk clothing may be damaged by or even disrupt the magic of the ritual. I looked like an ordinary ministry worker or clerk too poor and talentless to afford high quality materials and enchantments. Nothing like a proud wizard of the House of Black should.

Well, so be it. I wouldn’t lower myself to wearing muggle garb in front of a fellow wizard and I still hadn’t found any signs of Gotham’s magical community, so what I had would have to do. To be reduced to such abject poverty was galling, but hopefully I’d be able to put such things behind me soon enough.

There was a small, pleasant-looking café just a few doors down from the theater and I decided it would do for today. The café was moderately busy when I entered, a small bell ringing as I stepped through the door. There was a large chalkboard behind the counter decorated by elaborately drawn flowers and birds that listed a number of drinks and menu options. The counter itself was high and had a glass front, revealing a delectable array of cakes, pastries, and other sweet treats.

I did not particularly feel like speaking with any more muggles today, so I did not bother removing my repelling charm. Instead I wandered over to the counter and examined the beautifully-arranged selection of baked goods. They all looked rather delicious and smelled just as good, the air of the café awash with sweet scents. If they tasted half as good as they looked, I would easily believe that this place employed a few trained house elves, or even a witch specializing in household charms

I held my left hand out and swiftly conjured a wooden disk held loosely between my thumb and forefinger. A trio of flicks switched the disk for the top plate of a stack behind the counter and a moment later I vanished the disk before anyone could notice the switch.

I smiled when it appeared that no one had noticed my trick. It was a spell combination I’d read about in my seventh-year charms textbook but had never had a reason to attempt. Typically summoning something was much easier, but in this case I didn’t want to accidentally brain one of the muggle employees with a flying plate. Plus, it was a good bit of practice for what came next.

I conjured another wooden disk, this one somewhat smaller than the previous one, and set it down on my plate. Then I repeated the same spells as before but this time targeting a flakey, buttery looking pastry covered in a thick layer of shiny chocolate ganache.

Once again, it went off without a hitch and now I was holding a plate bearing a mouth-wateringly delicious looking sweet. I studied the other pastries behind the glass. I probably had room on my plate for one or two more. Something savory was a must, and then perhaps a slice of pie? I had never seen such a thing before, but a ‘Cheesy Garlic Twist’ soon appeared on my plate followed by a large, thankfully pre-cut slice of cranberry pie.

I turned away from the counter, prepared to find a table to claim before returning for something to drink, when I came face to face with a slender young woman with long black hair and bright cyan eyes. She was wearing a sleeveless, lavender shirt and white pants, and had her arms planted on her hips.

Far more importantly, she was also looking straight at me. Right through my muggle-repelling charm. This wasn’t some random muggle, but a witch!

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“And what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked me sharply, a dangerous glint in her eyes

I froze for a moment. Stealing from muggles was at worst a misdemeanor, the only punishment a slap on the wrist or a tiny fine, but that had been in my time. With the increased exposure of magic to the muggles, it was entirely possible that it had become a much more serious crime.

“I uh…” I bit my lip nervously, “don’t have any money with me,” I whispered, “and I’m really hungry.” I paused for a moment, then hastily added, “I was definitely going to come back and pay for it later!”

She stared at me judgingly for several long moments and I did my best not to fidget. She didn't look like much of a witch––her outfit was much like what I’d seen on plenty of muggle girls in the past few days––but she had a very intense stare.

Eventually her face softened. “I guess it's just a couple of pastries,” she mumbled, “it's probably not that big a deal?” Her voice turned hard. “You won’t do it again, right?”

“Of course not,” I quickly reassured her. I tried to remember one of the headlines I had seen a few months ago when there had been a renewed push to pass a Muggle Protection Act through the Wizengamot.“Stealing from muggles is a terrible abuse of our gifts.”

“Good.” She instantly brightened considerably, a wide smile on her face as she stretched her hand out towards me. “I’m Zatanna, what’s your name?”

The name was unfamiliar to me, but then again I hadn’t really expected to meet anyone I knew in a random city in America. She probably was no pureblood––Uncle Cygnus would have tanned Dorea’s hide if he’d ever caught her in such scandalous clothing. Most likely she was a Gotham native muggleborn spending her holiday from Ilvermorny with her family.

Still, just in case it was probably best to be polite. It would be just my luck to accidentally offend some MACUSA official’s daughter and get thrown into prison on trumped up charges again.

I gently took her hand in mine and leaned down to brush my lips against it. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Zatanna. My name is Hydrys Black. I’m sorry to have met you under such unfortunate circumstances. I hope you can forgive me.”

I wanted to close my eyes and slam my head into a brick wall. Merlin, two sentences and I’d already fucked things up. I’d absolutely been planning to introduce myself as Sirius, hadn’t I? And yet one pretty witch smiles at me and I immediately lose my head. Hopefully just figuratively.

Thankfully Zatanna did not seem to react with any sort of recognition. Good, with any luck that meant my face wasn’t plastered all over her modern history textbooks.“It's nice to meet you too! That’s a cool spell you’re using to go unnoticed, though it doesn’t seem to have worked on me.”

“Just a simple muggle-repelling charm I have anchored on my robe. Anyone with a bit of magic can see right through it, of course, but the spell is useful for a lot more than just hiding buildings.”

“That does sound pretty handy!” She looked away for a moment, then turned back towards me. “Hey, I have like an hour before I need to go help my dad set up. I could grab us something to drink and we can exchange notes? I don’t get to talk magic with too many people other than dad and Uncle Kent.”

Something about her words sounded slightly strange to me, but I was too excited to finally see another witch or wizard after three days surrounded by muggles that I didn’t really care. Zatanna probably wasn’t a muggleborn and didn’t go to Ilvermorny like I’d thought, but I did have a nagging suspicion about who her dad might be in that case. Many wizarding families had very particular naming conventions after all.

“That would be lovely, thank you Zatanna.”

Zatanna pointed me to the table where she was sitting and I took a seat while she went up to the counter to order. She came back a few minutes later with a tall white mug of fragrant black tea that she set down in front of me.

I inclined my head. “Thank you again, Zatanna. It smells wonderful.”

“Well, you sound British so I’m glad my guess panned out! I’m a tea girl myself, but dad always has coffee in the mornings so that's what I’m usually stuck drinking too.”

She sat down across from me and watched as I took a small sip of tea, the liquid just barely cool enough to drink. “So uh, what brings you here?” she asked.

I set the mug down. “Likely the same thing as you, I imagine.” I fished out my slightly crumpled paper ticket and set it down on the table. “I’m a little early for the show and was feeling rather hungry.”

Zatanna’s smile turned guarded. “If you think I’m going to let you use me against my dad then you’re going to have to think again. I’m not some sort of helpless––”

I raised my hands hurriedly before she could go any further. Clearly she’d gotten the wrong idea from my words. “No, no, nothing like that!” I quickly reassured her. “I wasn’t even sure if you were related until you confirmed it. I was just hoping your father would be able to help me with an issue I’ve recently experienced and I wasn’t sure how else to contact someone who could help me.”

Zatanna relaxed. “Oh. Um. I’m sorry, dad’s always been worried about one of his enemies trying to use me against him. It hasn’t happened yet, but since he doesn’t really have a secret identity it's something he always has to be careful about.”

“Completely understandable! No harm no foul.” At that moment, my stomach growled and I blushed, “My apologies, that was––”

Zatanna just laughed. “Eat up, the tea and baked goods here are amazing. I come here every time dad brings me with him to Gotham and I haven’t been disappointed yet!”