I roll over and groan. A wet kiss greets me from the other side of the bed. Susan must have bought some sort of clover perfume …

“Bloody hell!”

( At first I think I must have done something to pissed off a mobster or something because there’s a horse head in my bed. )

I hold my wand ahead of me, ducking low to go through yet another support beam opening. I can’t believe this was all made by Muggles. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely Muggle-made. I mean if it had been, it would never have survived the Blitz. Sure, the major grunt-work was done by Muggles; toting cart after cart of yellow bricks, mole-like, into the dark chasms of the earth on some crazy roller coaster-like contraption, mortaring them together while fighting off the ever-present fear of cave-ins. But oddly enough, it was Gellert Grindelwald who cast the Support Charms on the tunnels during World War Two. Otherwise, London would have been a much different city.

( Now of course, don’t get me wrong. )