Who Ya Gonna Owl?

'Right this way' was a gross over-simplification. Had Arthur tried to navigate Hermione's route alone he would have found himself hopelessly lost in a matter of minutes. Then again, if Arthur were to be strictly honest with himself, he would probably never get to the exit anyway. What looked like a Muggle bookshop caught his eye; he stopped in his tracks. They had all manner of books on display, but the most prominent was a fantastically decorated one entitled The DK Visual Encyclopaedia of Aeroplanes.

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Come on, Mr. Weasley," said Winston.

"But-"

"Airport stores are a ripoff. We'll stop at a WH Smiths if you really want to buy something. It's not worth it at these prices."

"It's not?" asked Arthur.

"Trust me on this. It's not. Everything costs more at the airport."

"Oh. I don't get to visit Muggle shops often-"

Winston laughed, propelling Arthur along after the others. "Don't worry about it. I plan on doing a little souvenir shopping myself before I go home. Got a nephew who's into planes, ships, you name it- I'll get your copy when I get his, if you want. Okay?"

"Really? Thank you."

"Hey, no problem."

Fortunately, the others hadn't got very far, burdened as they were with their own bags and packages. Hermione had stopped outside a door marked Janitorial Storage - Authorised Personnel Only. "Mr. Weasley," she said, hand on the doorknob, "something's just occurred to me." She glanced at Peter, who was fiddling with a silver-and-blue device he'd pulled from one pocket.

Arthur winced, looking over the Americans with what he hoped was a neutral eye. "The Bus?" he asked, hoping he was wrong.

"What about the bus?" asked Winston curiously.

"Well-" Arthur hesitated. "It's like this, you see. As I haven't got a Ministry vehicle at the moment, and there's no Floo fire here, we came by the Knight Bus."

All four of the Americans looked at him blankly. "We didn't think we were that late," said Ray.

"Not night, Knight," said Hermione. "K-n-i-g-h-t."

"Oh."

"It's a wizards-only form of transportation, you see," continued Arthur. "Not because it requires magic to use- but it only stops for wizards."

"How does it tell who's a wizard and who's not?"

Arthur lowered his voice, glancing around quickly to ensure no one was watching. "Most of the time, that's pretty easy. The only people who flag it down do so with their wands."

Ray nodded, patting the pocket of his jacket with a smile. "Got mine right here," he said.

"All right, that's good- it's just-" He nodded to the other three. "They don't. You and I and Hermione could stand on the street and wave our wands until our arms fell off, and the Bus still wouldn't stop as long as the driver thought there were Muggles about."

Egon shook his head, but Ray gave Winston and Peter a long, thoughtful look. "Well, I don't carry any spare wands," he said. "What do you suggest?"

"I don't suppose you've got any extra robes packed in those bags, do you?"

"Robes?" echoed Peter.

"Relax, Pete. No, Mr. Weasley-"

"Arthur, please-"

"All right. No, we don't have any robes. But if it's looking like ordinary people that's the trouble-" Ray smiled. "I think we can solve that problem pretty easily."

Five minutes and one trip to the men's room later, Arthur had to admit Ray had been right. There was absolutely no way that he could see any wizard of his acquaintance, even one as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody, mistaking the four Americans for ordinary Muggles. Members of a highly specialised branch of the military, maybe, if Hermione's whispered comment was anything to go by- but definitely not ordinary Muggles. "Merlin's beard," he said, looking them over. "Where did you get those clothes?"

"There's a shop down on Thirty-eighth Street in Manhattan," Peter said, adjusting the khaki jumpsuit's zipper. "Next to Spandex House. Little Chinese guy runs the place, does custom tailoring and alteration."

"Given the amount of ectoplasm we expected to encounter when we started out, it seemed like a good idea to get these made up," Ray added. "Ghostbusting's a messy business, and slime doesn't come out of everyday clothes too well. This was the most stain-resistant fabric I could find that still met our other needs."

"Hey, Art?" called Peter. "You want us wearing the packs too?"

"Not until we're actually outside, I think," Arthur decided. "And stay back from the kerb once we're out there- you don't look like Muggles, exactly, but I really don't know how much this is going to help." They were already starting to attract curious stares. It was making him nervous.

"Works for me. Okay, which way is out?"

"Through here." Arthur glanced back and forth- all right, no one was looking at them just then. It would have to do. Swiftly, he rapped the storage room's doorknob with his wand, and it swung open.

"We can't just use the main exit like normal people?"

"Not if we want the Bus to stop, no. Come on, quickly."

They piled out through where the closet ought to have been and onto the street, bags and all. Arthur silently thanked his lucky stars that none of them asked how that particular bit of magic had been arranged. He could no more have explained it than he could Platform 9 ¾; he'd only found out about it that very morning. Granted, Egon had produced a device with glowing arms that bleeped rapidly as he waved it at the door behind them- but he wasn't asking for an explanation, which was enough for Arthur.

"What do we do now?" asked Ray. Pushed up on his forehead was a set of goggles, the individual eye-pieces protruding from the black box in which they appeared to be rooted. He held up his wand; to Arthur's relief it appeared to be a perfectly traditional length of wood, possibly alder. "You said it'd stop for people with wands- do I need to do something with mine?"

"No, no," said Arthur, stepping to the kerb. "Just this." He flung out his right arm, wand in hand.

BANG.

The enormous, violently purple bus crashed to a halt in front of them. Peter yelped, jumping backwards and bumping into Egon, but the others just flinched. Hermione laughed; the door swung open and the familiar voice of Stan Shunpike rang out. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your and hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to- oh, it's you, Mr. Weasley." The pimple-faced youth sighed. "'ere, you know yer not s'posed ter be usin' the Bus this close to-"

"Yesyesyes, Stanley, we went over that this morning," Arthur hastily beckoned Ray and Egon over. "We've actually got stranded wizards now, though."

Egon rolled his eyes, but Ray waved and held up his wand.

Stan stared. Behind him the elderly driver, Ernie Prang, leaned over and peered at the two men incredulously. No one said anything. At least, not until Peter poked his head in between Ray and Egon. "Something wrong?"

"'ere," said Stan slowly, "what're you lot supposed ter be? Some kind o'-"

"If you say 'cosmonaut', Dr. Stantz here is gonna turn you into a radish."

"I can't actually do that, Pete."

"Quiet, Ray. Stanley, is it?" He wedged himself forward and grabbed Stan's hand, shaking it vigorously. "Good to meet you, Stan, my man. We're the Ghostbusters. We're here on official government business. Your Ministry of Magic sent an owl the other day, it was all over the papers in America." With his free hand he hastily gestured to the others to start loading onto the bus. "Unfortunately- heh, heh- we ran into a little trouble in Iceland, you know how it is, the whole place is nothing but a James Bond movie waiting to happen-"

"James 'oo?" asked Stan, blinking a little and edging backwards.

"You've never heard of James Bond? My God. You poor, deprived boy. You have got to get out more, you know that? Ignorance of your culture is not considered cool." Peter laughed, nodding to the wide-eyed driver. Behind him Winston scrambled aboard, followed by Hermione. "Anyway, my colleagues and I don't really have an alternative, so Mr. Weasley here was kind enough to arrange for your services. We really, really need to get to- where are we going, Art?"

"The Leaky Cauldron." Arthur dipped into his robe's pockets; the Ministry had at least given him money for this.

"Right, the Leaky Cauldron. So, unless you want the four of us walking through the streets all geared up for battle with your national ghost problem, in clear violation of the International Statute of Secrecy-"

"Uh-"

"-then you'll take the nice man's money, and you'll take us to the Leaky Cauldron and let us off there, and nobody'll say anything else about inappropriate use of the Knight Bus. Okay?"

The teenager gulped, looking to the driver for support. Prang shrugged helplessly.

Peter smiled, clapping Stan on the shoulder. "There you go. Wise man. Okay, guys, we're good to go!" He strode into the rear of the otherwise empty bus, leaving Arthur to pay the fare.

By the time Arthur had finished, the Americans had stowed their baggage. Hermione had taken a seat on the end of one of the beds, and was watching Egon at work on his bleeping device. "Hold on tight, everyone," called Arthur-

BANG. The Bus leapt into motion, knocking everyone backwards- save for Hermione and Winston, both of whom had grabbed for support at Arthur's words. As it started on its way and the others righted themselves, Hermione cleared her throat. "Dr. Spengler?" she asked.

Egon swore under his breath and put his device away in a pocket of the jumpsuit. "Yes?"

"If you don't mind my asking. . ." She leaned forward. Despite the fact that they were the only passengers, she spoke in a voice just above a whisper. "You are aware that use of the Imperius Curse on a human is grounds for a life sentence in Azkaban here?"

He took off his glasses, examining them for possible damage. Finding none, he slid them back on. "Of course," he said. "They covered the Unforgivables at the start of my second year at Durmstrang."

"You went to Durmstrang?" exclaimed Arthur.

"Unfortunately, yes. It was my relatives' idea. They said I'd already finished my degree in the mundane school system and that I could pursue graduate work after getting a proper magical education."

"But- your degree- what, at university? Durmstrang's for-"

"I finished my bachelor's in physics before I was twelve years old. I went back to MIT for my doctorate after I finished at Durmstrang."

Arthur shook his head in wonder. Hermione, on the other hand, refused to be diverted. "The Customs inspectors, Dr. Spengler," she reminded him. "What exactly was that?"

Egon smiled. "A little bit of applied parapsychology."

Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Haven't you ever studied a subject for so long that you decided to experiment with it yourself?"

"Of course. That happens every summer, when I'm waiting for school to start."

Peter made a 'pssh' noise, pulling his device's listening bits over his ears and flopping back on his bed. Egon nodded. "All right, then. I've been studying parapsychology and its intersection with the physical world since two days after I started at Durmstrang. The wizarding community hasn't got a monopoly on apparent violations of the laws of thermodynamics, despite what they'd like to think. What you saw was the result of nearly twenty years' aggressive scientific study and analysis of suspected and self-described psionic coercives."

Arthur was feeling almost as lost as Stan had just a few moments before, but Hermione seemed to be following the American's words without much trouble. "So. . . that wasn't Imperio, then," she said slowly.

"No." Egon smiled, a very brief, dry expression. "It wasn't even magic."

"It wasn't very reliable, either," called Peter. "He's been trying to get the hang of that for as long as I've known him. I think I've seen him pull it off properly maybe five times, tops."

"I told you, if you'd just let me drill that hole-"

"Excuse me, but am I an MD? Do you see a white coat and a stethoscope? Jeez, Egon, you didn't even put down a tarp."

"Go and listen to your Clash tapes, Peter." He turned back to Hermione. "As Dr. Venkman pointed out, I haven't had the kind of success I'd like."

"What would you have done if it hadn't worked just now?"

Egon glanced sidelong at Ray, who was watching the world stream by past the windows. "There are other ways of getting things done."

"Hey, Arthur?" Winston called. "How much longer to wherever it is we're going?"

"Not much, actually," Arthur said. "The trip to the airport this morning didn't even take this long."

"There's a lot of traffic on the road," Ray murmured absently. "At least, it looks that way. We're going too fast to tell."

"Ah, all right," said Arthur. "Still, it shouldn't be much-"

BANG.

"-longer," Arthur finished, picking himself up off the floor.

The bus skidded to a halt. "Right! This stop's the Leaky Cauldron, gateway ter Diagon Alley!" called Stan from up front. "Thank you for ridin' the Knight Bus, and enjoy yer stay!"

The Knight Bus pulled away, leaving the six of them on the pavement outside the Cauldron. Hermione started forward confidently, but Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. "I think there's a problem," he murmured, gesturing to the Ghostbusters. Peter was looking back and forth between the two shops on either side, apparently not seeing anything in between; Winston was squinting in the Cauldron's direction and rubbing at his eyes with his fists.

"Oh, dear." Hermione shook her head. "Mr. Zeddemore? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said Winston slowly, "but I keep thinking I'm seeing double."

"I knew this would happen." Hermione nodded to the other two Americans. "The Leaky Cauldron's been enchanted so that it can't be found accidentally by Muggles. Most Muggles can't even see it at all."

"What is there to see?" asked Peter, baffled. "You've got a bookstore and a record store, and that's it. I'm not seeing anything that could be a cauldron."

"The Leaky Cauldron's a pub, not an actual cauldron. Mr. Weasley's arranged for you to lodge there temporarily, at least until you've had a chance to talk with the Ministry tomorrow and decide what to do next."

"Oh."

"So if we can't really see it," Winston asked, "how do we get in?"

Hermione smiled. "Well," she said, "since there's not actually a Muggle-repelling Charm on it-"

"Even if there were, it wouldn't be a problem," Ray interrupted. "We've had to get past anti-mundane barriers before."

"We have?" asked Peter, blinking.

"Yes, we have. Remember that one job out by APEC? When the nice men with the Ray-Bans came around to talk to us afterwards, from the Memory Interdiction Board?" Peter nodded; Ray smiled. "There you go. Anyway, if there's no actual standing mundane repulsion field, then it's easy. As long as we maintain physical contact, we can lead you in ourselves. There shouldn't be a problem once they're past the initial Confundus wards, right?"

Hermione nodded. "I've had to bring my parents through several times, actually," she said. "Although the transition from one side of the spell barrier to the other does tend to give my father a bit of motion sickness. You and Dr. Venkman might want to close your eyes, Mr. Zeddemore."

Winston shook his head. "Here goes nothing," he murmured, taking hold of Ray's shoulder and closing his eyes.