Alicia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; Oliver had actually had a chicken sit on his head. Oh, how she would have liked to have seen that. She almost asked him why and when, but thought better of it... at least for now.
“If you turn green, it won’t be because of anything I give you today,” she promised him, then amended, “unless you end up deserving a good hexing, then I might turn you green.” She sent him an amused smile, though doubted the joke would have reached him. He really was being a man about this, but at least he was blowing his nose now, and that meant that a little of what she was saying was getting through to him. “And now this one...” she held up the small bottle and showed him how to make it spray by pushing down on the sides of it. “One blow in each nostril.”
Leaning back on her hand she sighed deeply. They had saved a lot of people that day, but many – too many – had still died, and there was nothing they could do about it. Even worse, the world didn’t know about it, at least not the truth. “The Muggle media says that it was an explosion caused by dated fuel lines or something like that.” The Muggle version, however, wasn’t the worst of it. “And the one time it was mentioned in the Prophet, it was hinted that the ships were part of the Muggles warfare against the Wizarding World. Can you believe it?” She shook her head, her voice cracking slightly with the indignation of the accusations and the horrible memories from that day. “They were tourists. They weren’t here to fight. They were here to eat Fish’n’Chips and tour the Themes.”