Years Later....
NAMORA
It was a cloudy day in Westminster, London and drops of rain still fell lightly from the heavy rain showers earlier that morning. It was almost always rainy or cloudy in Westminster, but the muggles didn't seem to mind it, and certainly not the wizards and witches that lived there. The Daily Prophet had just come in and owls flew about in the cover of night to deliver the urgent news. There had been a sighting recently in the Whitechapel district of London, which was east of Charing Cross. Another murder, a woman. Not just any woman though, she was a ministry worker, and the Ministry of Magic were starting to suspect that this "Jack the Ripper" might be a wizard.
One level two, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a slightly tilted wooden sign read AUROR HEADQUARTERS. The room in which the aurors resided had high ceilings with decorative pillars every twenty meters, glass lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, and large windows overlooking the magnificent city. And beyond that was open cubicles, all had pictures of Dark wizards, maps with red dots and inscriptions here and there, along with clippings from the Daily Prophet.
Tonight was especially eerie. Light from the moon flooded in from the windows and made shadows dance across the walls and over the pillars. An unearthly chill was set about in the usually warm and light-filled headquarters. Namora walked past open cubicles as she made her way out. She passed by aurors desks and looked behind her back. There weren't many aurors in the office tonight. Where had they gone too? She spied a group of aurors talking in a circle. Namora made a beeline towards them and smiled a hello as she came up beside a man with a fedora. "Hello Miss Ren," the man in the fedora said. " Yes, hello. I was wondering...where has half the department went to on this night?" A woman leaning in a chair looked at her oddly, "Don't you know? The minister has sent them to the Whitechapel District," she said and then looked to another woman with glasses that just shrugged. "I suppose that Mr. Scamander has joined them also?" "Yes, he has," the man in the fedora answered. "Well, I'll be off then," she said, and turned briskly from them.
She breathed out a sigh. Now she had to track down Mr. Scamander. She would never get her papers to transfer to MACUSA. Namora had been trying for at least a year. Even Percival had put in his efforts to state her case to MACUSA. Of course they were hesitant about hiring her considering her history. Everything that had happened at Hogwarts had changed her and had changed the lives of people she knew. Namora passed the rest of the cubicles and into an elevator that would take her down to the first floor. The golden gates closed and she tapped her foot as the elevator took her down. When the golden gates opened again, she eagerly stepped out and walked up to one of the side desks. A sign swung above the office that Namora couldn't quite make out and she tapped her fingers on the counter as she looked for someone. Suddenly she saw a sign that made her clench her fist. CLOSED
Namora turned and saw that the main floor of the ministry was practically empty. She shook her head as she grabbed her scarf from within her purse and wrapped it around her neck. She would just have to find him herself. Her heels made clip-clopping sounds on the marble floor as she passed offices and a large fountain with a statue made of white clay. Namora glanced sideways and saw the familiar booths where she usually apparated into to get to work. She felt suddenly sad that she was leaving the Ministry of Magic, but reminded herself that moving to America and transferring to MACUSA was for the best. All she could see was her father's shadow here. His laugh lingered among the books, his smile in the ceiling, and his whispers in the quills. Namora sighed. She missed him and her mother.
The sound of whispering attracted her attention. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying but she heard "...Whitechapel District..." and "Street...by the fountain...on the right towards..." Standing crouched in the shadows, she could see two aurors talking to each other in the booths. "They better be right about this..." A woman's voice said a she tied her hair into a bun and stuck a pin in it. "Scamander is quite the wizard." Another woman's voice said. "Ready?" The aurors looked upwards and disapparated. Namora looked to either of her sides before jogging towards the booths. All she knew was that the aurors were heading to the Whitechapel District. It could take her hours to even locate them and, by then, they would be gone.
Something glittering caught her eye and she bent down to pick up the shiny object. A hair pin. She smirked as she took out her wand. There was a type of tracking spell that Namora had been working on, and it seemed, that this was the perfect chance for her to give it a try. She touched her wand to the hairpin and whispered loudly, "Portus". The hairpin quivered in her hand and then she stood up and dropped it on the floor in front of her. Now to put the finishing touch on it. She lifted her wand and drew an odd symbol in the air and whispered again "tracumento". The hairpin turned a dark blue and then purple and then returned to its original color, gold. She rubbed her cold hands before stepping forward. There was a strong pull on her body and she was pulled head first as the enchanted portkey took her to the location.
She appeared in an alleyway and was thrown into a trash can. A loud clanging sound echoed throughout the street as she tossed the lid to the side and moved the trash can. The hairpin made a "clink" sound as it bounced off a trash can. She picked pieces of trash off of her coat and swiped green goo from her pants disgustingly. However, she had ported quite well. She smiled at that and then cringed. Her ears were ringing. She stood and wobbled a bit at first, as she touched the bases of her ears. In the dim, street light she could tell that it was blood.
She cringed again as she pulled a black handkerchief from her purse and dabbed her ears. How stupid of her to combine the portkey spell with a type of tracking one. It was the color, definitely the color. It was supposed to turn red and then purple. Not blue then purple. At worst she was at least two miles away and at best maybe less than a mile. She pulled out her wand, "Lumos". The tip of her wand lit up and Namora looked closely at the street. The aurors she was following had been here, they had apparated here. Now to find which direction they went. Namora searched around for the hairpin for a good while until she found it. It was tucked well in between a few chicken bones and some kind of foul smelling liquid that Namora gacked at. She would have to work out the kinks later though because she needed to find Mr. Scamander. Tonight. She must get those papers.
She dusted of her coat as best as she could and stepped over a pile of garbage and out onto the street and looked either way. She immediately didn't like how barren it was. The lamp lights were dim, creating a dreamlike scene as she passed by little shops and tall buildings and dainty little houses. Namora couldn't help but keep looking behind her back as if something was there, but alas, there was nothing not even a shadow. Just the little shops and the occasional hoot of an owl. She turned again to look at the owl. With its brown feathers and yellow eyes; it seemed to stare at her, and she had noticed that it had been following her for the last few blocks. Namora thought it odd that owls would be this late at night. The Daily Prophet didn't run them out late. But it could be a post owl. Namora shook her head again and touched her ears. She was overthinking the situation and maybe just a little delusional. The owl had probably flown away by now anyways.
Up ahead she saw a young woman, a muggle perhaps, that looked around the same age that Namora was. She wore a heavy, red dress with black lace. Her light hair was tied back with the exception of a few curls that hung down the sides of her face. And she wore a hat that shaded her eyes and face so it was hard to Namora to really look her in the eyes. Namora fixed her hair over her bloody ears and strode up to the woman. "A good evening tonight?" Namora said, desperately wanting someone to talk to besides an owl. The woman stopped sharply, looked at Namora and then said, "Yes, but a terrible night to be alone isn't it?" Namora stood open-mouthed as the woman carried on. She shivered, realizing that she was alone, at night, in the Whitechapel District, where murders happened.
Her cheeks started to flush red as she wavered back and forth, feeling light-headed. The street was zooming in and out terribly fast. The lights were going by in a blur. The screech of the owl brought her back though. She looked up at it. It was staring at her from another lamp post, eyes wide. Namora trudged on down the street, determined to find the aurors and Mr. Scamander one way or the other.
A shrill scream alerted her and she jumped, her arms tingling with goosebumps, her heart racing as she looked behind her. The woman. Namora took off running, her ears ringing with the sounds of bells as she passed by four lamp posts and seven shops. The woman was gasping when Namora reached her. She held a gloved-hand to her throat, eyes widened with fear, and a bloody hand pointing to a shop. Namora grabbed her wand out and was pulled backwards. Her scarf had unraveled itself and was tugging her sideways. "What is it! There's nothing there!" The scarf kept on tugging though until it had flown off towards the shop.
She glanced at the shop. It was a bookshop with a sign that read, Owen and Grady's. No glass was broken in the display windows, no signs of any damage. The shop seemed still and quiet, certainly nothing that could hide a murderer. Namora second-guessed this for she'd known that her scarf would only react to danger. She took a few steps towards the shop, her eyes never leaving it even though she momentarily bent down to retrieve the scarf. As she held the scarf in her hand, her eye caught it. The unmistakable red that blotted the sides of the oak door. She pointed her wand at the door and said, "Revelio!" Colors of green and brown spilled off the door as a figure was slowly revealed. The figure came towards her. A black cape that was darker than the night itself covered his body and a hood shadowed his menacing eyes. Namora shot up, holding her wand steady and pointed. "You're an auror," he said in a raspy voice, walking towards her. "Don't take another step!" He halted and held his hands up. They were covered in blood from his most recent venture. The woman, no doubt, was the victim.
"Do you really think that you can kill me? Miss, no one can save you now. You're mine and I'm going to enjoy taking those darling eyes from your head and ripping you up." "Petrificus Total..." "Expulso!" The man suddenly yelled; as if he knew exactly what spell she was going to use. Namora was thrown violently backwards out into the street. Her ears were ringing louder as she struggled with the thought that Jack The Ripper was a wizard. He could actually kill her. Blood streamed from both of her ears, dripping onto her coat . She struggled to breathe, the wind knocked out of her as, through blurry vision, she saw him coming towards her. "It'll be over soon." He said, pulling out a knife from inside his vest. She stumbled to her knees and flicked her wand towards him. At the same moment The Ripper had also pointed his wand at Namora. Their spells collided with each other and there was a stream of vibrating blue light against a chaotic stream of green. The Ripper took cautious steps forward as he watched his green spell start to overcome hers. Namora could see a malicious smirk from under his hood. She gulped, her mouth dry as she clenched her teeth and tried to direct more power to her spell. A reaction happened so suddenly. An explosion threw Namora out into the street, her clothes were singed and she could smell of burning flesh.
It took her back to Hogwarts. Back to where it all had happened on that street. Namora took quick, sharp breaths as her mind brought her to a street in Knockturn Alley. It hurt to think about, to remember it and Namora cringed painfully. Nearby The Ripper had his hands stuffed into his eyes. "I'll kill you. I'll...Argh! You will be the last victim auror!" He yelled. Namora snapped out of the memory and gave him a look that even Death might flinch at. She saw his blackened eyes grow wide in fear as she yelled "Flipendo!" The man had his hands up when he flew backwards. He crashed right through the display window of a woodshop and yelled as piles of finely cut logs dropped onto him.
She stood there for a moment, praying that he'd stay down, but her hopes were quickly diminished as the man moved the logs and rubble off himself and regained his composure. "No, no stay down." She breathed heavily and felt a steady hand on her shoulder and looked up to a middle-aged man with a determined look on his face. She saw him run towards The Ripper. "Incarcerous!" The man said in a commanding voice. The Ripper struggled to move and thrashed violently as thick ropes wrapped around his neck, chest, hands, and legs. The pounding of boots soon followed afterwards as figures in black coats apparated onto the scene removed came rushing towards her. Aurors!
"Are you alright?" " Help that woman over there!" "Are you okay dear?" "Is that the Ripper?" "What happened here?"... Multiple voices said at once. Namora touched her ears. They were bleeding still. An older woman with small eyes and black hair helped Namora to stand and guided her to a nearby bench where she treated her wounds. Namora looked towards where the woman had been attacked and saw a mixed group of aurors and healers surrounding her. The woman looked at Namora as she dabbed something onto her ears. "She'll be just fine dear. The aurors luckily got here in time." Namora nodded her head, even though she wasn't really listening. She was transfixed on The Ripper as two aurors roughly tugged him up to a standing position. The aurors brought him to the man that seemed to be the head of the aurors, the man that had saved her. Namora saw them conversing before they disapparated with The Ripper.
Namora cringed as the healer pulled out her wand and touched it to her left ear. Blood came out of the ear and she carefully pulled an empty bottle from a satchel she wore around her and dropped the blood in it. It was a painful feeling for Namora who felt like she was draining the blood from her brain. "Next ear..." Namora turned reluctantly. The bottle seemed to fill quicker this time and Namora was grateful when the healer said that she was finished. Namora leaned back on the bench, her head hanging. She honestly was so exhausted that she had forgotten to ask the healer where or who Mr. Scamander was.
For all the years she had worked for The Ministry of Magic. Why did she even come back here? She should have just stayed in America. The only reason she had come back was to find Mr. Scamander. A commanding yet elegant voice interrupted her thoughts. "You must be the auror transferring to MACUSA and apparently, the one auror that helped us catch The Ripper." Namora turned to face the man. He wore a brown long coat with a scarf, he was quite tall, and there was a sense of bravery about him. "Yes..." She answered back. Namora glanced over at the woman and he followed her eyes. "The muggle woman, ahh the healers have taken care of her and we just had the obliviators here a moment ago."
"Mr. Scamander, the muggle is responding well to the potion, the healers think she will make a full recovery." A man in a bowler hat and a mustache said. "Ahh, yes, how about the murderer?" The man twisted his mustache nervously. "Saucy old Jack is getting ready to be transported to Azkaban sir." Mr. Scamander nodded him off and sat by Namora. He stretched his shoulders and wiped his hands over his face. "Mr. Scamander..." His hands dropped down to rest on his lap as he looked at her. "Would... you be able to sign my transfer papers?" He seemed a bit surprised but nodded. "Is Pamela out of office again?" Namora chuckled, "She's probably at one of those parties she's always talking about." "That old woman never ceases to amaze me," he laughed and then said "I can sign the papers now," he said and she handed over the crumpled papers from within her coat. "Do you have a quill or..." Namora pulled a black and turquoise-feathered quill from her purse and handed it to him. "Ahh, yes, thanks you," he said and started to sign the papers.
He held the quill up to hand it back to her, but stopped suddenly. He seemed intrigued with the feather, but shook his head and gave it to her. "Apologies, my brother is fascinated with magical creatures and I'm sure that he would want to know where this came from," he gestured towards the quill. Namora smiled. "My father used to tell me it was from Greece." "Does he work for the ministry?" Namora looked down, "He passed away quite some time ago..." Mr. Scamander gave her a nod, "I'm sorry for your loss... My brother, he was distant from my family and my parents wanted him to join the ministry, we all did. But, he said that he just couldn't and went off to write some book about magical creatures. It was like losing him when he went away, we weren't that close but I did try, he just never really..." The man sighed. "Here you are," he said as he handed her the papers quickly and stood. He straightened his vest before nodding to her. She stood and folded the papers to put inside her coat.
"Picture for the paper!" Someone yelled. Theseus walked over to where they had Jack incarcerated for the moment and ran over his hair before putting his hat on. "You too Miss!" The man said and shuffled her to stand by him. Jack was just behind them, held by two aurors. He certainly looked like a killer. He had bloodshot eyes, a crooked nose, and a grimace that could make a dementor uneasy. Namora was on end, wondering if he would pull any last minute tricks. "Up here everyone!" The man called and snapped his fingers. "One, two, three." There was a blinding flash and the picture was over with. After the picture was done, The Ripper was transported by the aurors to Azkaban. She felt relieved and nodded a goodbye to Theseus. He nodded back and walked briskly away to join a group of aurors who were gathered around the bookshop.
"Excuse me?" Namora whirled around to face a slim man with dark hair, brown eyes, and a goatee. "Yes?" "I'm Mr. Freddy Franklin, reporter for The Daily Prophet and The Sun." "The Sun? Isn't that a muggle newspaper?" The man nodded, "Yes it is. Now, back to you. How would you describe your encounter with The Ripper? Do you think you could have handled him by yourself? Where you searching for him?" "I..Mr. Franklin, could we possibly schedule this interview for another time? I must be getting to my lodgings." "Ah, I see. Could you just answer one question?" Namora sighed, "Fine..." "Everything okay over here Mr. Franklin?" A soothing voice said. A man in a hat and waistcoat sauntered over to them, giving Mr. Franklin a stare. "I'm sorry, who are you?" Namora asked. "Inspector Edmund Colins." Mr. Franklin grumbled and twiddled his wand. "Mr. Franklin here is quite the reporter."
Good evening to you Mr. Franklin," Mr. Colins said. Mr. Franklin heaved a sigh, "Interview. Tomorrow. My office," he said as he slipped a card into her pocket before she could respond. "Good evening Mr. Franklin!" Mr. Colins said again and Mr. Franklin walked towards the scene of the crime, noticing the injured woman. He would be, no doubt, questioning her. Mr. Colins sighed. "Freddy Franklin is an interesting reporter. He can get a lot of good information, but he is a twister of words." "You, however, seem to be a bright witch, a very prestigious auror Ms...?" "Ren." "I see." "How did you know that I was an auror." "Your fingers. The index and the middle are rough. The ministry trains their aurors very precisely on how to hold a wand." Namora nodded, amazed. "I knew your father. He was a brilliant man and an even better inspector. I wish he'd only join the division, but it seems that he had chosen another field. I was one of the last to see him..." Mr. Colins said, taking off his hat apologetically. "...He said to me, carpe diem. It is Latin for "seize the night". Namora gulped back a sob, thinking of her father. "Thank you, Mr. Colins. I better get to my flat." Mr. Colins nodded and put his hat back on. Turning he saw that Freddy Franklin was vigorously jotting down notes from the woman. Mr. Colins rolled his eyes. "Mr. Franklin!"
She wobbled a bit as she walked past the scene where a muggle had almost been killed and herself too. Blood still marked the street and special wizards and witches gathered the blood into colored vials. A team of aurors had their wands out, pointed at the bookshop, and Mr. Scamander pointed this way and that, directing the aurors. The wind dried her eyes and she cursed herself for being so sensitive. "Move on! Move on Namora!" she yelled in her head. The wind picked up suddenly and something wrapped around her leg that made her jump. She looked down and bent to pick up something long and silvery.. The scarf. She shook her head. How the thing lasted so long she did not know, but she was glad for the assistance of the scarf in times of need. It was slightly burnt, but otherwise the scarf was still in good condition. The old thing seemed to last forever and she grabbed her wand out to clean it up... So many memories with the scarf even though not all of them were good, she placed it over her shoulders, stole a glance back to the street where aurors and obliviators worked their magic on buildings and the street, then disapparated...
~
THESEUS
Theseus ran a hand over his hair before placing a hat on his head. He took out his pocket watch and watched as the hand moved slightly, it was 11:38pm. Time flies, Theseus thought as he stuffed his wand into his pocket. He had been tracking the Ripper for quite some time. Now an auror from America had caught him. He just couldn't believe he was right there in the same location. Theseus thought about the auror, Namora Ren. He knew of her and her...history. The trouble at Hogwarts, the murder of her parents, her association with Albus Dumbledore..He always said to himself that people's past did not define them. He thought of Newt, poor Newt. His brother, a magizoologist. While he was a hero, a war hero.
Theseus sighed, at least the Ripper was going to Azkaban now. He didn't always have to catch the bad guy, he didn't have to be a cursebreaker. Namora had aided him in catching the Ripper, but he had saved her and got the bad guy. She could've been a great auror. This made him think of Leta. He could go back to New York earlier than he had planned, back to MACUSA, and back to his fiancé. Theseus thought of Leta's face, and smiled. Yes, he would go back to America and take a break for awhile, maybe go to a concert or opera. He could take her to Paris, there was a flier he saw that advertised a circus.
He stole a glance back at the street. It was almost turned back to its original state. With a newfound energy and yearning for home, Theseus disapparated. He apparated onto a street by the name of Baker. The seventh house on the street was where he had been staying for the past few years. It was a small flat that he shared with one other room mate. There were two floors, his room was up a flight of twisting stairs revealed with a spell. To outsiders, the house looked small. It was a white house with trim and two large windows. An older lady that lived there had let Theseus rent the upper room. She went by her last name Mrs. Hudson. She was just an old maid by now, her house smelling of books, ginger, and candles. Theseus wasn't sure exactly what Mrs. Hudson's job was. All he could figure was that she left early in the morning and came back late, sometimes as late as midnight or past.
Mrs. Hudson often left a tray of tea for Theseus levitating in the air by the cabinet where the entrance was to the staircase...Theseus walked down the sidewalk, listening to the silence of the night and the occasional sound of carriages rolling down one of the street. Her house lay towards the end of the street. It was small, but soon he would be traveling back to America. To his fiancé, Leta Lestrange. He smiled at the thought of her soft skin, warm eyes, and confident voice. He wished to be by her side, to embrace her, and tell her that he could stay for a while. He nodded to himself, thinking that he would request to permanently stay in America, no more travel...
~
NAMORA
Namora apparated in a small alleyway on her street. Sometimes she wished she could disapparate into her house, but with the hex she put on the house, it was impossible. Then again, she had to have been careful back then, when the Ripper was still lurking the streets. She figured that she should remove the hex now that the job was done though. She thought of all the things she could do now. She could go back to America, back to New York were her fiancé waited. A small smile appeared on her lips as she thought about it all.
She pushed open the little black gate that led to her small house, walked up the stone steps, and with a wave of her wand, the door unlocked. Of course Namora had around a dozen locks and she could hear each and every one of them clicking and whizzing as they unlocked. The door popped open and she stepped inside happily.
She took a big breath in, home. Well, now that she thought about it this was just a house, her home was in New York with her fiancé. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy as the adrenaline rush started to wear off. She tiredly took off her shoes and stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom. Namora yawned as she wrapped herself in the covers, too tired to undress. She fell asleep dreaming of New York.
Namora awoke at 5:35 in the morning. She quickly changed into a black dress and pulled an overcoat on over it. She fixed her hair into a burn and snatched her scarf which had hung over the bedpost all night and hung it around her neck. She didn't even remember how her scarf had gotten there. Namora had to wrap it twice around her neck it was so long. She could swear the the scarf just got longer overnight. She often wondered, when she wore it, if it was ever this long when she was a child at Hogwarts. Or, maybe she had just wrapped it several times around herself. She imagined herself with piles of scarf wrapped around herself, covering her face. Now the scarf hung a little past her waist.
She slipped on her shoes and used her wand to pack her bags. Sweaters, coats, shoes, dresses, and a few pairs of pants flew from her closer and neatly started to fold themselves and into the suitcase. She had the grand total of three large suitcases which wasn't all that bad. She rushed down the stairs, her suitcases floating behind her as vases, lamps, blankets, kitchenware, books, and such things of the sort floated into the bottomless suitcases.
Netherless she had all of her things packed into only three suitcases in thirty minutes. When she looked at the clock on the wall, it read 6:02 and she quickly shuffled herself out the door. She set the suitcases on the steps and took her wand from her pocket to remove the hex. "Apparito removalus". There was a vacuum like force as a blackish yellow was pulled from the house all at once. The force of it all made Namora step into a lunge and hold her wand with two hands and an imaginary wind blow against her making her hair go wild and her scarf fly sparatically.
She clenched her teeth as the wind suddenly stopped, making her fall backwards down the steps. She rubbed her back as she stood, stuffed her wand in her pocket and went out the gate with her suitcases in hand. She took one last look at the house before walking down the street. She waved to her neighbors that were gaily going to work in their little cars or riding bikes. A newspaper boy rode down the street and tipped his cap at her as he rode by and three a newspaper at her neighbor's house. "You, boy!" She yelled putting her suitcases down and waving him over. He looked to see if any other tragic was on the street, even though, this early most people weren't out and about just yet.
He rode over to her and skidded his bike to a stop. "Yes Miss? "May I buy one of those papers from you?" He reached into his bag, but he had an unsure look on his face. "I don't know if I'll have enough for my rounds. I still have to get this side of the street," he said and pointed to her house and down. "The lady that lived there...moved out." "Really?!" Said the boy and he scratched his head. "When did that happen, I was only here just a few days ago." "Just today, in fact." "Huh, Well I suppose it couldn't hurt then." He pulled a rolled paper out from his carrier bag and handed to Namora. She fished through her purse and gave the boy some coins." As he rode off, he waved and peddled to another house.
Namora took off the band that was holding the paper together and unfurled it. Typical muggle paper, but with a spell it could be revealed something quite different. She glanced at her sides before pulling her wand and tapping the paper in a shape that resembled a W for wizard or witch. She gasped as she looked at the heading.
HEAD AUROR THESEUS SCAMANDER CAPTURES RIPPER WITH THE AID OF FELLOW AUROR NAMORA REN.
THE RIPPER was transported to Azkaban just last night! After the cunningness of the auror, Namora Ren, and the bravery of head auror, Theseus Scamander, the streets of London are once again safe! Though, what's on every wizards mind is what will become of the RIPPER. What happens next, will the RIPPER get a trial? Will he be executed? A Ministry of Magic employee says that he hopes the RIPPER gets what he deserves. We talked to one of the aurors at the scene of the crime. She says that "old Jack" had killed her Aunt who had lived in the Whitechapel section of London and that he should be sentenced to death.
Now we all wonder what is next for Namora Ren. Will she remain in London, go back to America, or something else entirely. In an interview last night, she said, and I quote, "The Ripper was what I was looking for, and I found him." Now that's a bit saucy.
Written be Chief Reporter-Freddy Franklin
"Saucy! What I was looking for?!" Namora said, shocked. She bit her lip in anger. What kind of reporter was this Mr. Franklin? She put it out of her mind though as she made her way to a ship which would be leaving to America. She could've used a port key, but the only one she knew of was about fifty miles away. She thought a relaxing boat ride would be nice anyways. She'd board, relax for a days, and be in New York by Saturday. She was excited to enjoy herself for a few days. Maybe she could talk with some witches or play a few games. These ships were known for their excitement. Thankfully they travelled faster than the muggle ships. Namora couldn't be away from her fiancé too long. She loved him. She was in love with Percival Graves.