Muggle Summer
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 45: Openings and Closings
Wednesday, July 4, 7:35am
Buckingham Palace, London
The fact that Harry Potter was dressed and ready before Hermione was spoke volumes about just how nervous she was about her first official day on the job at 10 Downing Street.
"Can I do anything to help?" he asked as he walked into the walk-in closet of their Buck Master Bedroom. He found her facing the full-length mirror, dressed in a tailored two-piece suit, black hold-ups, and low-heeled pumps.
Hermione used her hands to pull her hair away from each side of her face. A moment later, she turned and asked, "Which earrings, Harry?"
Harry cocked his head to one side and squinted, first at the gold hoop in her left ear, then the pearl that dangled from her right. After a moment of consideration, he replied, "Erm..they both look nice."
"I said, which earrings, Harry."
Harry smiled as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist. She tried to push him away with the admonishment, "Wrinkles!"
Harry snorted, and only pulled her closer as he placed his nose within nuzzling distance of the pearl and softly replied, "Ironing Charm."
While Hermione was protesting that there wasn't time to recharm her clothes, Harry stepped back, gently held each of her ear lobes in his hands, and asked, "Perhaps you might want to consider 'none of the above'?"
He then answered Hermione's confused expression by retrieving a small box from his trouser pocket. Inside was a pair of flawless three-quarter carat diamond earrings.
Hermione's eyes lit up as she quelled a frown of frustration by biting on her bottom lip. "Oh, Harry," she said as she pulled him into a hug. "Thank you…you shouldn't have."
"Why not?" he replied. "It's only fitting that you look your best on your first day."
A chuckle came from her lips as Hermione quickly swapped out her mismatched pair of earrings for the diamonds and placed the rejects back into her jewelry box with their mates. She turned back towards the mirror and let out a sigh.
"Harry, they're brilliant, but I'm working undercover," she noted."Not too many interns could afford to be wearing earrings as nice as these."
"Oh, sorry," Harry said, as he wrapped his arms her and pulled her back into a firm embrace. "Maybe I can chew them down in size?" he asked, as he tried to determine whether diamonds have any taste.
Hermione swatted his hands away from her waist and craned her neck away from Harry's kisses. "Stop, Harry…this is exactly why I blocked out extra snagging time in our schedules last night."
When a wand snapped out from Hermione's arm holster Harry thought she might be trying to back her brush-off with a hexing. He quickly backed away, which gave her plenty of room to cast a weak reducing spell that shrank the gemstones down to a much more modest size.
"You know," Harry said, "I also bought a smaller pair if you wanted the stones to be that size."
Hermione smiled through the mirror. "Oh, no, these are fine," she replied, as she viewed her handiwork. "I rather like knowing that they are larger in real life."
"Even if they look the same?"
Hermione nodded. "It's like wearing expensive lingerie," she explained. "They're just as functional as plain-Jane knickers, but a girl just feels better knowing that she's hiding something luxurious under her outfit."
"Is that so?" Harry replied with a smirk. "Anything like a bloke getting excited at the thought of his girl going commando', even if he can't see it for himself?"
Hermione smiled, having discovered a way to thank Harry for his thoughtful gift. After making one final check in the mirror, she accio'ed her briefcase, then used her free hand to pull Harry's head into a crushing kiss. Tearing her lips away from his, she bit down lightly on his left ear lobe, and then whispered sweetly into his ear.
"I don't know if it's the same thing," she replied. "But maybe you can tell me when I get home tonight."
Harry was too shocked to provide a witty retort, and by the time that his tongue had regained functionality Hermione had reached inside her jacket to activate her badge. With her mum "on the phone," he didn't dare say anything as she made a silent adjustment to her wardrobe. Mother and daughter chatted just long enough for Hermione to get the all-clear to badge-jump.
She disappeared. Her knickers didn't.
+++
Hermione reappeared in Windsor Castle, inside the ground floor Round Tower apartment that her parents now called home. A few minutes later, she got a call from Harry on her mobile while she was walking with her parents to the Royal Mess.
"Hi, Harry."
"Erm, Hermione…did you forget something that you'll need for the day?"
Hermione smiled coyly. "No, I don't think so…oh, and I just wanted to say thanks again for your thoughtful gift this morning."
"Erm…you're welcome," Harry replied. "I have to say that your thank-you gift has wreaked havoc with my thoughts."
"That was my intention," Hermione said.
"Want to hear just what kind of thoughts I've been having?"
"Maybe later," Hermione replied. "I'm with mum and dad right now."
"Really?" Harry asked. "Well, if that's the case, then I'll let you go. Good luck, sweetheart…I know you'll knock them dead."
"Thanks, Harry."
"Oh, and just so you know, I've got your little gift in my coat pocket, in case you need them back sometime during the day."
"Erm, no…Harry…that's quite alright."
"Hey, no problem, Hermione," Harry replied. "I never realized it, but if you fold them just right they make a rather dashing pocket square….the red silk even matches my tie."
"Harry…don't you even think….wait, don't tell me that you're serious."
"Maybe," said Harry, rather cheekily. "Are you going to tell me that you're seriously considering not wearing knickers to work today?"
"Maybe."
"Merlin, Hermione…I mean…not even going to fire a 'notice-me-not' charm up your skirt?"
"Oh! Harry…you are quite the perver…erm, perfect boyfriend."
Harry laughed. "Didn't want to say 'pervert' within earshot of your parents, Hermione?"
"No, not really."
"Well fortunately, I don't have that problem…nobody here to hear me go on and on about exactly where the skinny part of this thong was just a few minutes ago."
Hermione mouthed a silent curse as she pocketed her mobile.
"Something wrong?" Emily Granger asked.
"No," Hermione replied, "Harry's just providing some therapeutic distraction….aren't you Harry."
"Only looking out for you, my dear."
"Yeah, right, Harry…talk to you later."
Once she pocketed her mobile her father asked, "A distraction from this big surprise you want to tell us about?"
"Erm…maybe," Hermione said with a grin. She waited until they had been seated for breakfast and had their orders taken before elaborating.
Roger and Emily Granger had worked a second shift from 3pm until 11pm on the day previous, so there hadn't been a chance for Hermione to tell them about her visit to 10 Downing Street. They were thrilled when she stated that she had provisionally accepted both postings as Senior Advisor and Special Envoy. One of the first questions they asked was about her age…while Roger and Emily were quite certain that she would be up for the job, they wondered what the muggle public, the press, or her co-workers would think about a teen-ager advising the Prime Minister. Hermione assured her parents that they had already thought of that issue, and come up with a work-around.
Hermione's working relationship with the Prime Minister was to be a tightly-held secret, and revealed only on a need-to-know basis. Roger and Emily were on the "need-to-know" list as Art Club members, as there might come a time when they'd be called on to badge-jump to the Prime Minister's defense using Hermione's badge as an anchor. She would be working undercover as a summer intern, and assigned to the office of the Prime Minister's Chief of Staff. Hermione would still be a bit young for the job, as almost every intern came to the Prime Minister's office after university. But the age difference wasn't that great, and MI 5 ¾ had worked up a plausible backstory.
"So what kind of intriguing history have they manufactured for you, sweetheart?" her father asked.
"Oh, nothing too sexy," Hermione replied. "My mum and dad are expats working in the States, and I did all my schooling over there. Apparently, I was some sort of child prodigy that entered uni at thirteen."
"Well that part's not far off the mark," Roger proudly boasted.
"Daddy!" Hermione exclaimed. She then went on to note that she supposedly just graduated from Duke University with a degree in political science, and will doing the internship while she decides whether to study law at Oxford or Cambridge.
"Duke?" Emily asked. "Any particular reason why they chose that school for you?"
"It's the best known American university that wasn't attended by anyone presently working in the Prime Minister's office," Hermione explained. "That reduces the risk of me getting tripped up by somebody who actually studied at that school."
Emily nodded in understanding. "So, then, how is it that our college graduate suddenly found herself working for the Prime Minister?"
"Oh, in the usual manner," Hermione replied. "Personal connections."
"Really?" Roger asked. "Of what sort?"
Hermione smiled. "Why, didn't you know that the Prime Minister is a close friend of the family?"
"Erm…no."
"Oh, yes," said Hermione. "We see him nearly every time he visits the States. So I have to remember to call the Prime Minister T-t-t-Tony once in a while."
Roger shook his head. "Afraid to call your childhood crush by his first name, sweetie?"
"Dad, no!" Hermione shot back. "It's just that, well..to call the Prime Minister by his given name..."
"It's just a name, dear," her mum replied. "Just like Voldemort, right?"
"Erm…right…just like Voldemort," said Hermione. "So, if you ever visit the office you'll have to call him T-Tony as well."
"Right."
"And I no longer have a schoolgirl crush on him, I'll have you know," Hermione noted. "In fact, it was Tony that introduced me to the Queen's Wizard,"
"Really? Then let me guess," said Emily. "Since you're so close to the Prime Minister…"
"It's Tony, mum…Tony."
"Erm..right…since your on a first name basis with the P.M. you won't have to do all of the menial tasks that interns are assigned to complete?"
"Right in one, mum," Hermione replied. "Probably won't make me any friends amongst the other interns, but there had to be a reason for an irregular work schedule, and independent research projects that involve a lot of travel."
Roger snorted, then asked, "So are you going to be spoiled by a nice office with a view, then?"
Hermione shook her head. "That would be a bit too much," she explained. "There's only a couple of offices besides the P.M.'s…erm…Tony's that have windows, and the interns are assigned tiny workstations down in the basement."
"Oh, I see," said Roger. "So how do you plan on maintaining your cover with so little privacy?"
Hermione smiled. "They also assigned me a broom closet."
"A broom closet?"
"Yes, a broom closet. It's a bit cramped, but it's on the main level and has four hard walls and a door."
"And just what do you plan on accomplishing within a broom closet, dear?" her mum asked.
"Oh, nothing too naughty," Hermione replied with a smile. "Fred and George are going to stop by for a visit sometime today and help me do a little interior decorating."
"Fred and George?" asked Roger. "Oh…imagine that they might know a few room expansion charms?"
Hermione gave her dad a wink. "Don't tell Tony, but I think that by the time they're through I'll have a bigger office than he does."
The Grangers laughed at Hermione's joke, and added their own comments about taking care not to be seen entering or leaving her broom closet with the Prime Minister.
"So what else are you planning on doing today, dear?" her mum asked.
"Well," Hermione replied, "I may be asked to brief in the new Home Secretary on the wizarding world. I gather you heard about Duluth being sacked?"
Roger gave his daughter a knowing grin. "Yes, the story was in all of the papers this morning," he replied. "Although I have to say that my eye was drawn more towards the other headline story of the day."
"Oh, no…don't tell me…"
Roger nodded as he rose from their table and walked over towards a stack of the morning dailies. Pulling four different ones from the pile, he returned to his wife and daughter and spread them out on the table.
Hermione pulled a tabloid towards her and grimaced at a page-covering photograph of Harry and her standing in front of 10 Downing Street. The headline over their heads read, "Abracadabra!" with the underlying subtitle "P.M. Seeks Magical Cure for Sagging Poll Numbers."
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione lamented. "Did The Sun have to put me on the front page?"
"Would you rather they made you a Page Three Girl?" Emily asked.
"Erm, no," Hermione replied with a blush in her cheeks. She looked over the other dailies and asked, "The Mirror, the Times, even the Guardian? Is there a newspaper that didn't publish a picture of Harry and me on the front page?"
Emily patted her daughter's arm. "I'm sure that there were a few on the Continent that didn't dear."
"Oh, Merlin help me!"
Roger Granger shook his head in amazement. "You know, it is amazing…the publicity you and Harry get, the company you keep, and the ease at which you move within the circles of power and privilege…"
Hermione gave her father a rather cross look, then let out a sigh. "Guess I never really thought about it before," she admitted. "After all, the wizarding community is rather small, so it never seemed all that strange to be rubbing elbows with the Minister of Magic and other top officials at the Ministry. Especially being Harry's friend and all…he's the one that's had a rough go of it."
"What about that awful story during fourth year?" her mum asked.
Hermione snorted. "Well, that one turned out to be almost accurate, in the end, didn't it?" she asked. "But I never had it as bad as Harry…he's always struggled with the unwanted fame and notoriety."
Mrs. Granger smiled, "So now you can better empathize with Harry?"
"More like commiserate," said Hermione. After a moment, though her expression brightened, and she asked "Can I have that copy of the Times, Dad? I want to clip out that photograph."
Roger looked over his shoulder at the unread stacks of newspapers. "Erm…don't see why not, sweetheart," Roger replied. "Starting a scrapbook, then?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm afraid that some Royal staffers have already been assigned that task. I have a simpler plan in mind for that picture."
"What's that, dear?"
Hermione gave her parents a conspiratorial smile.
"Posting it off to the Dursleys in Romania."
+++
8:40am
Prescott's Bank, London
Had he been given a choice, Harry Potter would have rather gone on with the meeting of the Prime Minister and Minister of Magic, just to get it off of his planner "To Do" list. Not that the replacement of a major cabinet minister wasn't a good enough reason mind you…and he had to admit that upsetting Scrimgeour and his lackeys with the delay was a nice consolation prize. It also opened up a large block of time in his schedule, and allowed him to book a meeting with the wizard barrister who had come so highly recommended.
The early hour appointment reflected the barrister's busy schedule, while the meeting location reflected an agenda that went beyond magical secrecy laws. It also gave Harry an excuse to dig Sirius's spell-shrunk motorbike out of his rucksack and take it for a spin.
He had arrived at Prescott's a good twenty minutes before his scheduled appointment…had the morning traffic been any less congested he might have considered riding around the City for a few more minutes. As the bank didn't open to the public until nine, he had been directed to a side door, where a uniform guard was waiting to greet him. Less than a minute later, Harry found himself downstairs within the expansive office of the bank's president.
"Good morning, Lord Gryffindor, please have a seat," said the president.
"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins, but please, call me Harry."
The elderly bank executive smiled. "As you wish, Harry. Would you like some tea?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, thank you."
It didn't escape Harry's attention that the bank president knew exactly how he took his tea without asking. As Jenkins handed Harry his cup and saucer he asked, "So how is the weather upstairs…rain still holding off?"
"Erm, yes," Harry replied, as he took in the obvious fact that a basement-level room wouldn't have windows (at least within a muggle building). "Pardon me for asking, but I'm surprised that your office isn't up on the bank's top floor."
Jenkins smiled as he returned to his seat behind his desk. "In any other muggle bank I dare say you'd be right. But given our bank's ownership, well….a basement-level location makes it easier for some of our Directors to pop in and out without bringing attention to themselves."
Harry nodded. "Makes sense," he replied. "I'm sorry that I'm a bit early for the meeting…I could wait upstairs in the lobby so as not to inconvenience you."
"Not a problem at all, Lord, erm…Harry," the bank president replied. "Your request for meeting space yesterday reminded me to review our commitment to provide you with our highest levels of service. As such, I was just going over your accounts."
Harry sighed. "You know, I really should object to all of the special treatment, but as I'm sure that you're acting on Ragnok's instructions, I'll just have to accept it and offer my thanks."
The bank director gave Harry a warm smile. "You are welcome, Harry. I hope you realize, though, that given the extent of your holdings that you would still be receiving this level of service."
"By the bank's president, himself, Mr. Jenkins?"
"Actually, that could have been the case," Jenkins replied. "There are only a handful of senior account managers that are both aware of the wizarding world and capable enough to handle active portfolios as large as yours. As a result, I'm much more involved in client services than the president of a typical muggle bank."
"So you manage the accounts of other wealthy wizards, then?" Harry asked.
Jenkins nodded.
"Anyone that I know?" Harry asked with a grin.
The bank president chuckled. "Confidentiality rules prevent me from answering that question, Harry. I'm sorry."
"Oh, no, I understand," Harry replied. He paused for a moment to flesh out a thought that had popped into his head, and then asked, "Is it hard to keep track of the rules and regulations of both the muggle and wizarding worlds, Mr. Jenkins?"
The bank president shook his head. "Despite the fact that Prescott's is goblin-owned, it is chartered under the Bank of England, and operates completely under the muggle government's rules and regulations."
"So my money in this bank is managed separately from the galleons in my Gringott's vaults?"
The bank president nodded as he took a sip of his tea.
Harry then said, "So if I got into trouble with the Ministry of Magic, and it ordered my accounts frozen or tried to confiscate them…"
"We would not be bound by that order," the president replied. He added, "I daresay that Gringott's would also take a dim view of complying with that order under present circumstances."
Harry frowned. "So, if a convicted Death Eater had his accounts frozen or confiscated by the Ministry of Magic, and the goblins did comply with that order, then he or she could still get money from accounts they may have in your bank?"
The bank president coughed a bit, then confirmed for Harry that was indeed the case.
"So, Mr. Jenkins, what would it take to have a Death Eater's muggle accounts frozen?" Harry asked.
"The order would have to come from Her Majesty's Government," the president replied.
Harry nodded. "Is there any sort of cooperation between governments, so that the Ministry of Magic could ask the muggle government for its help in this kind of situation?"
Jenkins nodded as he finished off his tea. "The possibility exists, but I'm not aware of that kind of request ever having been made. Frankly, I doubt that the Ministry would ever dream of a pure-blooded Death Eater sullying himself enough to use the muggle banking system."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "But without violating your confidentiality rules, would it be fair to say that the Ministry ought to be having those kinds of dreams?"
The bank president thought for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, Harry, I think I can say that the Ministry's dreams have always been a bit too unimaginative."
Harry nodded as a clock chime struck the hour. A few seconds later, the bank president's telephone rang, and he informed Harry that a Mr. Abrams had arrived and asked for him.
As Jenkins walked Harry upstairs to an empty conference room, he said, "I understand that Mr. Abrams is one of the very best barristers in the wizarding world."
Harry replied, "He came highly recommended, but I'm glad to hear you say that as well."
The bank president then said, "Forgive me if it is not my place to ask, but have you set your affairs in order in case, well…"
Harry gave his host a rueful grin. "No worries, Mr. Jenkins. Given your advisory status it wasn't out of place." He added, "Making sure I have a ironclad will is actually high up on the list of services I'm hoping to have a barrister provide."
Jenkins nodded as he guided Harry to the doorway of his meeting room. "Well, if there is anything else I can do either during or after your meeting, please let me know."
Harry shook the bank president's hand, and replied, "Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I can assure you that you have already been a big help this morning."
The bank executive nodded, as Harry turned and introduced himself to the wizard who, within a few minute's time, would become the head of Clan Potter's legal staff.
+++
11:40am
10 Downing Street, London
Hermione Granger was in the middle of a transfiguration spell when her Art Club badge lit up with a call from Harry. She abandoned the effort mid-incantation and immediately activated her badge.
"Harry, is something wrong?"
"Erm, everything's fine…sorry Hermione," Harry repled. "I know we said mobiles for non-emergency calls but I haven't been able to reach you that way for some time."
"Oh, guess I have been doing a fair bit of active magic," she replied.
"Where?"
"I'm in a broom closet with Fred and George."
"The Weasley Twins, eh?" Harry asked. "Do I need to send a prefect patrol over there?"
"Very funny, Harry," Hermione replied. "I do believe that I told you they had volunteered to help set up my new office."
"Yes, yes…just messing with a bit," Harry replied. "So how has the first few hours gone, then?"
"Brilliant, for the most part," Hermione replied. "Bit of resentment from the other interns, like I feared."
"Well that's too bad…any chance that you can join me for lunch?"
"Well, erm, I'm sorry, Harry, but my new boss already asked me," Hermione replied. "And then I've got meetings all afternoon."
"Oh, well, that's alright," Harry replied. "Just thought I'd check."
"I'm sorry, Harry, really."
"No, Hermione, it's fine," Harry insisted. "I've still got you for dinners and late-night snacks, right?"
"Absolutely."
Harry smiled into his badge, wondering if Hermione knew what he wanted to see on his menu that night. But he put those randy thoughts aside and focused on business.
"So the new barrister is going to work out rather nicely, I think."
"Really? In all of the ways that you were hoping?"
"Uh-huh," Harry replied. "I told him to make his legal research on the secrecy laws his top priority, by the way…he thinks he might have an answer by tomorrow."
"That soon?" asked Hermione. "That seems awfully fast if he plans on doing a thorough job of it."
"I thought so too," said Harry, "but he assured me that he had a bit of magic up his sleeve."
"Well, he is a wizard barrister, I guess."
"Oh, and another thing," said Harry. "Right before that meeting I had the chance to talk with Prescott's president."
"Mr. Jenkins?"
"That's the one," Harry replied. "It was a very interesting conversation…he danced around his confidentiality requirements well enough to let me know that there are Death Eaters withdrawing funds from their muggle bank accounts."
"Rather ironic, isn't it?" said Hermione.
"Yes, indeed," said Harry. "Anyway, the point is that while the Ministry of Magic has frozen the Gringott's accounts of all of the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban, those orders don't affect any money they might have in muggle banks."
"And the Ministry hasn't asked the muggle government to follow their lead?"
"Not according to Mr. Jenkins," Harry replied. "So, I was wondering if…"
Hermione quickly agreed. ""I'll ask about it during lunch."
+++
9:30pm
567 Fulham Road
Fulham, London SW7
It was all Lucius Malfoy could do not to hex the muggle bird that was ahead of him in line to use the ATM machine. Humiliating enough to have to dirty his hands with the muggle bank cards and confounding money boxes, but to have to wait for the privilege?
The money run had been nasty part of his daily routine ever since the Ministry of Magic had frozen his Gringott's accounts. The Dark Lord hadn't cared much for his excuses for the first missed "donation" to their cause, and shown his displeasure quite emphatically. His initial response was to rob a muggle bank, but those prats had put some sort of exploding blue ink bomb in the bag of pounds that they'd made off with, and the black-market money changers had refused to convert the notes into galleons. And that brought about the next round of expressed displeasure from his master…after their devastating defeat at the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort had ordered his remaining forces to go to ground, and to not draw attention to themselves.
Apparently, robbing a muggle bank at wand point whilst wearing their Death Eater costumes was considered attention-getting.
And so, the elder Malfoy was forced to tap into his own muggle accounts. He knew that Prescott's was goblin-owned, and hadn't been willing to risk walking into the bank and withdrawing funds in person. ATM machines were the only reasonable recourse. He could have given his bank card to someone else to get the funds, but there were trust issues, not to mention his reluctance to reveal to anyone his dependence on a muggle machine.
The woman in front of him finally completed her button pushing and walked away with her cash in hand. Lucius approached the machine (confidently leaving his crib sheet of written instructions in his pocket), pushed his card into the slot, and punched in his secret code. When he got to the withdrawal screen he hit "other," then punched in a request for 350 pounds (a daily withdrawal limit that forced him to repeat this process all too frequently).
Malfoy then stood impatiently while the ATM informed him that it was "completing the requested transaction." He had done this enough times to know what came next…the "thump-thump-thump" sound of notes being counted out, just before the little door opened out and gave him his money.
"I wonder how spitefully low the exchange rate will be tonight," he thought to himself. Suddenly, he heard a low growling, grinding noise coming from a different part of the machine. He looked up and read "We are unable to release funds from your account at this time. Please contact your bank for more information."
"What!" he shouted, pounding on the side of the machine.
His raised voice and actions drew the attention of a bobby who just happened to be driving down the street in his squad car. The Metropolitan Police officer stopped, rolled down his window, and asked the predictable question.
"Well, well, well, what's all this then?"
Malfoy whipped around, ready to raise his wand, before realizing just who he would be aiming it.
"My apologies, officer," he finally drawled. "There seems to be a problem with this machine…it won't give me my money."
"Really?" the bobby asked. "Well, that happens sometimes when you don't have the funds to draw against."
"But you don't understand, officer, I have more than a million quid in that account."
The bobby squinted at Malfoy.. "Is that so, sir?" he asked. Recalling his pre-shift notice that arrest warrants had been issued and bank accounts frozen for a number of suspected terrorists, he added, "Perhaps if you give me your name and account information, we can clear this matter up?"
Malfoy startled a bit at the suggestion. "Erm, no officer, that won't be necessary. I'll visit the bank in the morning. Must be some sort of clerical issue."
The police officer nodded as he looked the Death Eater over quite carefully. Malfoy was dressed in a tailored suit and tie, but was under a glamour spell that made him look nothing like the photographs that had been circulated around with the notice.
A radio call came into his squad car, announcing that a group of hooligans was pestering some tourists just down the road. The bobby decided that there wasn't enough in front of him to justify not responding to that call.
"Take care, then sir," he said, just before driving off.
Malfoy let out a deep breath, realizing just how close he had come to creating a little more attention to himself. With a string of curse words seldom heard in the wizarding world (much less muggle London), he turned back to the machine, hoping to at least retrieve his bank card.
The machine had no intentions of giving it back.