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Faith took two steps forward as the door clicked closed behind her, and stared at her new surroundings.

The street she had first entered the bar from had consisted of buildings either built or upgraded in the last twenty years—this one looked like a set from a Charles Dickens story made into a movie. Robed men and women were walking around talking to each other and looking into store windows—which had signs that seemed ordinary at first, but a few of the names started to attract her attention: "Blackstone's Potion Supplies"—"Anaximander's Wands"—"Doolittle's Magical Creature Store." Her first response was to look down at the bottle in her hand suspiciously, but she was already aware that she wasn't particularly drunk—whatever the strange drink's properties were, it didn't seem to have as much of an intoxicating effect as other beverages she had partaken of. She stashed the bottle in her shoulder bag and walked into the bizarre new environment, looking around for boundaries and other new sights.

After about a half an hour, she had discovered that the area was a six block square—about a quarter mile on a side—and with clear barriers at all edges. To get out, she'd either have to leave through the bar or some other business, or she'd have to climb a building and see if she could get out that way. The latter course seemed to her to be a bit drastic, as bars were generally open to late hours and she could always go back to it.

More importantly, she had been listening as she walked, and the conversations of those around her had been enough to give her a good idea of what this place was, and who these people were. There were apparently thousands of people who could use magic by shouting spells and pointing wands, and they called themselves wizards and witches. They hid from the rest of the world, living in their own areas or concealed from the normal humans (they called them "nuggles" or "tuggles" or something like that—the wizard she had been listening to at that time had a bad cold and wasn't too easy to understand), and places like this allowed them to get the things they needed without attracting unwanted attention. There must have been some magic that keeps normal people from knowing that bar is there, and it didn't work on me because I'm a Slayer. She smiled to herself. This looks like it would be a fun place to hang out, if I can find out where to get some of the money they use without having them figure out that I don't belong here.

Harry Potter and the Exiled Slayer, Chapter 4